


Ascendance

by TheMedJack



Category: IT (Movies - Muschietti)
Genre: Adult Losers Club (IT), Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, Ben Hanscom is a Good Friend, Beverly Marsh is a Good Friend, Bill Denbrough is a Good Friend, Bonding over Richie's awful Netflix Specials, Childhood Memories, Closeted Character, Coming Out, Date Night, Depressed Richie Tozier, Eddie Kaspbrak & Beverly Marsh Are Best Friends, Eddie Kaspbrak Lives, Eddie Kaspbrak Loves Richie Tozier, Eddie Kaspbrak/Richie Tozier-centric, Eddie divorces Myra, Eddie is in a coma, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, F/M, Found Family, Gay Eddie Kaspbrak, Gay Richie Tozier, Ghost Eddie Kaspbrak, Ghost Stanley Uris, Grief/Mourning, Hearing Voices, Homophobic Language, Hospitalization, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Injury Recovery, Internalized Homophobia, Love Confessions, M/M, Major Character Injury, Mentions of HIV/AIDS, Mike Hanlon is a Good Friend, Minor Ben Hanscom/Beverly Marsh, Minor Bill Denbrough/Audra Phillips, Minor Patricia Blum Uris/Stanley Uris, Misc. Loser POV's, Nightmares, OC (Joey Watney), POV Eddie Kaspbrak, POV Richie Tozier, Pain, Panic Attacks, Paparazzi leave Richie alone challenge, Past Abuse, Patricia Blum Uris is a Good Friend, Period-Typical Homophobia, Permanent Injury, Physical Therapy, Post-Canon Fix-It, Post-IT Chapter Two (2019), Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Richie Tozier & Stanley Uris Are Best Friends, Richie Tozier Loves Eddie Kaspbrak, Richie and Eddie will not Shut Up, Richie is a Dork and a Romantic, Soft Eddie Kaspbrak/Richie Tozier, Sonia Kaspbrak's A+ Parenting, Stanley Uris Lives, Stanley Uris is a Good Friend, Stanley comforts Eddie, Suicidal Thoughts, Supportive Losers Club (IT), Survivor Guilt, The Losers all blame themselves for what happened challenge, The Losers save Eddie, lots of bickering
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-29
Updated: 2019-12-29
Packaged: 2021-02-26 07:27:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 40
Words: 231,162
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21959596
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheMedJack/pseuds/TheMedJack
Summary: Eddie Kaspbrak wakes to a world in which nobody can see or hear him.As he watches his friends mourn his sacrifice, Eddie is confronted by the crushing reality of his noble yet untimely demise. He finds himself caught between the realms of the living and the dead without closure or guidance. With an old friend as his only form of company, Eddie is forced to undergo tribulations that not only threaten to obliterate everything he thought he knew about himself, but he also faces the staggering truth of secrets previously unspoken as the surviving Losers try to come to terms with their loss.But Eddie isn’t quite as lost as it may seem.Someone calls out to him from the other side, a wordless whisper beckoning him to return to the land of the living. It is a voice Eddie knows well, one he now sees in a new light. As Eddie’s inclination to pursue the unseen call grows stronger, he finds himself fighting with a new-found tenacity to get back to the people he cherishes most.To get back to Richie Tozier.
Relationships: Ben Hanscom & Eddie Kaspbrak, Ben Hanscom & Richie Tozier, Beverly Marsh & Richie Tozier, Bill Denbrough & Eddie Kaspbrak, Bill Denbrough & Richie Tozier, Eddie Kaspbrak & Beverly Marsh, Eddie Kaspbrak & Richie Tozier, Eddie Kaspbrak & Stanley Uris, Eddie Kaspbrak/Richie Tozier, Mike Hanlon & Eddie Kaspbrak, Mike Hanlon & Richie Tozier, Richie Tozier & Stanley Uris
Comments: 426
Kudos: 319





	1. Arms Tonite

**Author's Note:**

> Well hello. Here we are at last. For those of you who don’t know, I came up with the idea for this fic on 10/19 and finished writing the final chapter in the late evening of 12/24. So yes, the rumors are true: I wrote this behemoth in a whopping 67 days while also working full time.
> 
> For Reference:  
> EDDIE POV = CHAPTERS 1-13  
> RICHIE POV = CHAPTERS 14-28  
> MISC. LOSERS POV = CHAPTERS 29-40  
> Rated M mostly for excessive strong language, blood/gore, vague sexual references, and heavy themes.
> 
> I don't own any characters, songs, or lyrics posted anywhere in this work or in the notes.
> 
> Fun fact: The original word count estimate for this back on 10/19 was an astonishing “10k minimum.” Classic mistake. I never learn, do I? 
> 
> This fic has been an absolutely crazy ride and I loved every second of it. Before we jump in, I wanted to give a quick shoutout to all of my discord friends who kept me sane, put up with my incessant snippet spam, and tolerated all of my cryptic messages of what this thing could possibly be about. So a HUGE thank you to Jo, Anne, Jamie, Gel, El, Sapph, Micky, Chloe, Hayley, and EVERYONE else in our many servers who dealt with my constant Reddie ramblings. If it wasn’t for your constant support I never would’ve finished this. I'm also going to apologize in advance for any grammatical errors/typos in this. I only had three days to proof-read and edit this thing so I surely missed quite a bit. Thanks for bearing with me. 
> 
> PLEASE feel free to spam me with comments. Even if it's just a plain "fuck you" it will bring me great joy I promise. 
> 
> Additional Fun Fact 1: I’ve chosen a song for every chapter that I think resonates very well with the characters/plot in that portion of the story, so I’ll be posting the titles and artists of the songs (as well as the lyrics!) for you to read down in the notes. Feel free to skip, it’s just another fun detail I wanted to include. 
> 
> Additional Fun Fact 2: Come be my friend! My tumblr username is currently: marvellsvalkyrie. And all posts I've reblogged/posted that relate to this work are under the tag #if you know you know. My current twitter handle is: @beepbeepjess. 
> 
> Additional Fun Fact 3: The word "fuck" comprises 0.23% of all words in this work, so do with that information what you will.
> 
> Lastly: I’ll be posting specific warnings in the top notes at the start of every chapter in all caps, so PLEASE be on the lookout for them and tread lightly. (Ex. TW: SUICIDAL THOUGHTS, TW: HOMOPHOBIC SLURS, TW: BLOOD/GORE). And if I've missed any that you think I should add to any particular chapters, PLEASE don't hesitate to let me know. I'd be happy to do it. 
> 
> And with that...Let’s go on a goddman adventure, my loves.

A heavy silence fell upon the forest path as the six figures trekked towards its end, guided by some vague intuition from memories yet to be retrieved. The group never spoke, trapped in a bewildered trance that warped the world around them into a blurred haze. Sunlight cut through the trees above in rays, bright against their tattered and bloodied clothes. 

Their stench was pungent, a stark contrast to the familiar scents of wet dirt and pine surrounding them. Only Eddie seemed to mind, though, keeping his mouth sealed shut and reaching up every few seconds to wipe harshly at his nose. 

_Don’t breathe through your mouth,_ Richie once said to him when they first entered the house on Neibolt as children. 

_Why?_

_Cause then you’re eating it._

In any other circumstance, Eddie would have smiled at the memory. But the sight of his friends completely coated with grime, blood, and grey water was enough of a somber reminder of what they’d just faced. 

Bill trudged with the slightest limp, grimacing as every few steps sent a twinge of pain up his leg. Mike and Beverly flanked him on either side, the former clutching his bandaged arm with his uninjured hand. Ben tread quietly in front of Eddie, glancing backwards every so often to ensure Richie hadn’t fallen behind from the rear. 

They certainly hadn’t emerged unscathed, but at least they all survived. Well, almost all of them. Eddie's stomach twisted as Stanley’s face materialized in his mind. 

In the words of Richie, they killed that fucking clown. 

And now, for the first time since that original day at Neibolt, Eddie felt free. Lighter, even. Like some weight he didn’t even know about was finally gone forever. He exhaled, feeling the tension in his body dissipate as he strode on. A mixture of grief and consolation surged through him in its place, the sensation unfamiliar yet strangely welcoming. 

The trail’s end soon came into view, formed from a recognizable clearing in the brush. Eddie knew this place, from somewhere deep in his subconscious. Even if he couldn’t remember it all, it felt as though he’d walked this path many times.

It was like a dream. 

With the cliff approaching, Eddie snuck a glance at Richie. He hadn’t spoken a word the entire trip. Richie sauntered next to him, feet dragging along the dirt and unfocused eyes set forward. Dried blood caked his hands and lower arms, with splatters of it reaching all the way up to his glasses. One of the lenses was cracked. 

But there was something off about him. Not in a _we just killed the child-eating space clown that’s been haunting our asses for three decades_ kind of off. No, this was something different. 

Despite his lack of memory and over two decades of separation, Eddie’s short time with the other Losers had already brought back so much. And with every new encounter, another memory began to surface in his mind. They were always blurry at first, slowly sharpening as a sudden sense of familiarity swelled within him. 

Eddie knew Richie’s eyes, even if it was only a subconscious grasp. At their dinner the other night, Eddie gazed upon Richie for the first time in so long and felt like he'd known those eyes forever. Like no time had passed at all. 

But now there was something there that Eddie had never seen, and it frightened him. 

“Rich,” Eddie muttered, shuffling a few steps closer to Richie and leaning forward to better see his face, “You alright?” 

Richie said nothing, eyes drifting towards the ground as he harshly shoved both hands in his pockets. He clenched his jaw with a noticeable force before hunching his shoulders forward and constricting his chest. It was as if he was scared that taking too large of a breath would shatter him to pieces. 

Recognizing that Richie wasn’t quite ready to speak, Eddie hesitantly recoiled and turned back to follow the others in silence. A heavy worry swelled in his chest, but he kept quiet.

Fatigue from the fight weighed down on the group as they hiked the final stretch of the path. Every step was more draining than the last, but the sudden breeze from the cliff-side helped guide them towards its edge. Yeah, Eddie definitely knew this place. The quarry looked exactly as it had when they were kids, save from the “No Jumping Allowed” sign that was now posted in front of the cliff. Down below, ripples in the quarry's water shimmered under the sun. Its body was a brilliant and welcoming blue-green. 

Flashes of cliff-diving and swimming in his youth suddenly surfaced in Eddie’s mind, the familiar view from the cliff bringing everything surging back. He remembered the day Beverly joined them, how she jumped before anyone else. It was a time before the clown, before...everything went so wrong. 

Eddie felt a pang in his chest at the thought. Everyone was together and happy, still full of such excitement and hope. They were so far from that now, too far to ever get back. Trying to rid his mind the thought, Eddie shook his head and removed his outer layers of clothing like the others had. Beverly silently tread forward, leaning over the cliff’s edge to catch a glimpse at the water below before taking the first leap just as she had all those years ago. Her fiery hair gleamed in the sunlight, whipping against the wind. 

“Go ahead, Bill,” Mike said, gesturing for the man beside him to go ahead. With a quick nod, Bill stepped forward and jumped without hesitation. Mike followed suit seconds later. 

After hearing a second splash, Ben glanced over at Richie. His eyes were so tired, so pained. But in them Eddie also saw relief. He watched as Ben reached over to give Richie a firm squeeze on the shoulder. “See you down there, Richie,” He muttered as he turned and leaned forwards off the cliff. 

It was just the two of them now. 

Eddie risked a glance at Richie again, a rush of sadness overcoming him upon seeing the same pained look in Richie’s eyes from earlier. “You go, Richie,” Eddie uttered quietly, “I’m right behind you.” 

Releasing a shuddering breath, Richie broke into a short run as he strode off the cliff. He kept one hand on his glasses as he fell, making sure he wouldn’t lose them when he hit the water. 

Once Richie was a safe distance away from where he landed, Eddie bent his knees and propelled himself forwards. The rush of air against him as he fell was soothing, almost like a soft caress. It was as though the realization that he could finally leave this shitty town and those terrible memories behind him for good finally struck him. 

Eddie shivered as he hit the water, the world around him turning ice cold. He surfaced quickly, sweeping a hand across his face and through his hair. “Ugh,” The man groaned, grimacing as he peeled a piece of algae that’d stuck itself to his face, “Fucking disgusting.” 

With a roll of his eyes and a mental note to take a _real_ shower later, Eddie swam over to where the others were gathered. They stood in silence, dowsing water on themselves to wash away the endless layers of muck and grime. Clouds of browns and reds swirled in the once blue water as they scrubbed. Eddie shuddered again, cringing at the filth they were _cleaning_ themselves in. 

He drifted past Richie, who sat unmoving in the water, wiping at the blood smeared across his glasses with his thumb. His uncharacteristic silence persisted, setting off even more sirens in Eddie's head. 

“Rich,” Eddie said, his voice tender and no louder than a whisper. An unsettling shudder shot through his chest as he lowered himself to be in Richie’s direct line of sight. “Talk to me, please.” 

Richie glanced up, but not towards Eddie. 

Eddie followed Richie’s gaze to where Ben stood, wiping the water from his face with both of his hands. The man sighed, eyes focused on the ripples of the water between them. “You know what,” Ben said, voice cracking, “Eddie would’ve hated this, guys.” 

“Dude, I’m _right_ here,” Eddie shot back in confusion, his voice greatly contrasting from the one he’d just used with Richie. He made to stand from where he was crouching. “Hate what?” 

“What?” Bill asked, quirking an eyebrow, “Cleaning ourselves in dirty water?” 

Ben let out a tired chuckle and nodded, “Yeah.” 

Eddie scoffed, pointing a finger at Ben, “Yeah, I sure fucking do-” 

Beverly cut Eddie off before he could finish, a somber smile on her lips. “He’d be telling us we’d get streptococcal something.” 

Eddie blinked as the others laughed quietly, feeling flustered. His eyes darted between the others’ faces, only to realize that none of them were looking at him. “Why are you guys talking like I’m not...right here?” 

“Yeah,” Mike nodded towards Beverly, seemingly ignoring Eddie’s question, “But he would’ve made us laugh, though.” 

“Oh yeah,” Beverly agreed, her fond smile growing slightly wider.

“Okay!” Eddie snapped, growing impatient, “This isn’t fucking funny anymore, can you please sto-”

“He’d be looking out for us...” Bill said, smile dropping from his face. 

“What the fuck are yo-”

“...like he always was.” 

“Wha-” Eddie breathed, face contorting with bewilderment as he negligently stumbled his way over to Bill. None of the group reacted to Eddie's splashes, despite his intentional exaggeration. Eddie placed himself right in front of the man, determinedly staring him dead in the eyes. Bill stared back in his direction. “Bill, what th-”

“Isn't that right, Richie?” Bill asked, startling Eddie and causing him to jerk backwards. He could have _sworn_ Bill was looking right at him, but…

Eddie swayed, his head spinning as he whirled to face Richie. The man was hunched over, arm propped on his leg and hand actively shielding his face from view. 

Richie started weeping. 

“Rich?” Eddie gasped, propelling himself through the water to reach Richie. His heart raced in his chest, loud thuds pounding in his ears. An overwhelmingly raw terror formed in the pit of Eddie’s stomach at the sight. Why the fuck was everyone talking like this? Not looking at him? Not even acknowledging that he was right here with them? And now _Richie_ , he-

“Hey,” Beverly gently called, swimming over towards Richie. She reached him in seconds, not hesitating to cradle herself against his Richie’s arm and rest her head on his shoulder. The others followed suit, all of them gathering close to their friend and protectively wrapping their arms around Richie’s trembling form. 

Eddie waded in front of the group, less than a foot away from Richie’s scrunched face. He stared, horror-struck, as Richie sobbed into Bill’s arm with no restraint. Richie had never been one to open up often, but never in his life had Eddie ever seen Richie cry like this. Never in his life had he seen Richie in such _pain_. And judging by the shaken expressions of the other Losers, neither had they. 

“Richie, please…” Eddie begged, tears brimming in his own eyes now. His mind raced even faster than his surging heart, overworking itself trying to comprehend what was happening. “Guys what’s going on, I...I don’t understand.” 

No response. 

“Somebody _please_ just answer me, for fuck’s sake!” Eddie cried, panic rising in his chest as his throat started to close in. He was standing _right_ there, right in front of their damn faces, _yelling_ for them to answer. And yet, nothing. From any of them. 

“What the _fuck_ is happening-” Eddie started, his voice cutting off when Richie’s sobs intensified. His heart shattered at the sight. 

Bill couldn’t bring himself to look up at Richie. Instead, he stared straight ahead at nothing, eyes dazed and glassy with tears. From the corner of his eye, Eddie spotted Beverly tightening her arms around Richie’s, squeezing her eyes shut forcefully. Her bottom lip was quivering. 

What the hell happened?

“Bev?” Eddie whispered, voice softening. He reached out to her, only to freeze with his hand mid-air when the quietest of words slipped from Richie’s lips between his cries. 

“I...miss him,” Richie stammered before setting off on another bout of sobs. 

“Wha-” Eddie panted, mouth hanging open. No matter how much air he sucked in, it never felt like enough. His throat constricted to the point where it stung, hands clenched in fists from the building tension in his body. It was like some invisible being had its claws clasped around his neck, and no matter how fiercely Eddie struggled, he couldn't break free.

“We miss him, too,” Ben sniffed, placing a comforting hand on both Beverly and Bill’s shoulders as they cried. 

Wait, what?

Blood drained from Eddie's face as his eyes widened in horror, a jolt of fear striking deep in his chest. He watched the tears cascade down Richie’s cheeks and drip into the water below, a dizzying sensation overcoming him. His voice cracked when he tried to speak again. “Who-”

“...We left him down there,” Richie whimpered, lifting his head to look at the others. His eyes were bloodshot behind the tears.

Eddie’s hands trembled at his sides at those words. He brought them up to gently rest on Richie’s shoulders, a startled cry escaping his mouth when Richie failed to react at all. 

What the fuck is happening, what the fuck is happening, what the fuck is happening, what the fu-

“Don’t say that,” Mike said from over Richie’s shoulder, his voice low. 

Richie shook his head, crossing his arms tightly across his chest and folding into himself. “We still could’ve h-helped him...” 

“Richie-” Ben started.

“...and we _left_ him t-there.” 

_We left him there._ Head pounding, Eddie firmly shook Richie in a desperate attempt to elicit any form of response. He weakly cried Richie’s name again and again during his futile efforts. 

Nothing. 

“Richie, honey, he...he lost so much blood,” Beverly whispered gravely, leaning in close and placing her hand directly where Eddie’s rested. She didn’t seem to notice it at all. Another tear rolled down her cheek as she spoke, “There was nothing more we could have done.” 

“If there w-w-was,” Bill added solemnly, “we would’ve d-done it, Richie.” 

Head hanging low, Richie leaned into Beverly’s touch and turned to face her. Eddie sat in frightening silence as the pair locked eyes. What little composure Richie had gained was suddenly lost as he let himself crumple onto her shoulder. “...Eddie, he...he’s all alone d-down there, Bev,” Richie wept, fresh tears falling, “H-he...he hates the dark...” 

The world around Eddie came to a sudden halt. 

Vision blurring at the edges of his sight, Eddie back-stepped through the water, distancing himself from the group. His breaths came in shallow gasps as he instinctively reached for the inhaler in his pocket that was no longer there. 

Time seemed to slow as Eddie outstretched his violently-trembling hands, turning them over and back repeatedly. 

These were his hands.

Eddie then brought them inwards, running them along his arms, chest, and face. His skin felt cold to the touch, despite the heat of a raging fire that currently swept through his body from his rapidly-pounding heart. 

This was his body. 

Eddie was here, he was present. 

But not to the others. They couldn’t hear him, and no matter how desperately Eddie tried, they couldn’t see him. And the way they all cried, voices strained and tears burning streaks down their faces...and Richie, he...

Everything the Losers said about him...how they left him somewhere...how they couldn’t do anything else for him-

Fuck.

No, no, no, no. It couldn’t be.

Another rush of panic pulsed through Eddie’s core, stunning him as he stared at his friends in despair. He stood up straight, frightfully attempting to calm himself down enough to remember what the _fuck_ happened. 

Bill went to Neibolt by himself. 

Everyone else followed. 

They went inside together, but they got split up. 

Stanley...not the real Stanley...he attacked them.

Eddie froze. 

They climbed down to the cistern. 

Beverly got attacked.

Eddie froze again.

Richie told him he was brave. 

The ritual didn’t work. 

The ritual didn’t work, and-

they got split up, and-

Fuck. 

Eddie couldn’t remember what happened after that. It was like reading a book and coming across a torn-out page. Defeating the clown, getting out of the house of Neibolt, arriving at the quarry’s path. All gone. There was nothing there, nothing at all. 

How the hell did he get here?

Eddie strained his mind, hands rising up to clutch either side of his head when it started to ache from the effort. Eyes shut and heaving forceful breaths through gritted teeth, Eddie delved back into the depths of his fortified mind. 

_Eddie._

_He’s all alone down there._

Richie’s words suddenly flashed in Eddie’s thoughts, eliciting a horror-stricken gasp. The sound of Richie’s voice pulled him deeper into the void of his conscious thoughts until the darkness started to slowly fade into something else. 

_Um, alright, not scary at all, right?_

_No, no, no, no, no, no, they’re uh...they’re flipped! He’s fucking with us!_

_Are you sure?_

_Trust me!_

_Are you positive?!_

_YES!_

_Okay…_

The clown, the doors, cornered in the tunnel with Richie. Yes, that’s right, that’s what happened next. Images started to resurface in flashes. Slow at first, and then all at once. Eddie didn’t think his hands could shake any more than they already were, that his heart couldn’t beat any faster. 

But his rising dread proved him wrong. 

As much as Eddie tried to deny it, as much as he couldn’t wrap his brain around it...something happened to him down there. His throat burned, searing with pain as he drew in another sharp breath. 

The ritual didn’t work. 

They got split up. 

The clown cornered Eddie and Richie. 

They got away. 

Richie he-

-he left the tunnel first. 

Eddie wasn’t far behind. 

But Richie, he-

Eddie cried out, eyes shooting open as he gasped for air. Shit, he was so dizzy. Swaying where he stood, Eddie stared at the group in front of him. They were out of arms reach, but still close enough for Eddie to hear their voices. It seemed as though the others had finally gotten Richie to calm down, his voice firmer and more steady. “...Thank you,” He said, glancing around as the others finally detached from their long embrace. “I, uh...just dropped my glasses so I have no idea who you people are anymore, but...thank you.” 

The others chuckled softly until they realized Richie was serious. Eddie stared from a distance, his anxiety amplifying with great contrast to the others’ increasingly calm demeanors. In silence, the Losers all began to search the water for Richie’s glasses. Richie remained where he was, face and eyes still red. His utter exhaustion was apparent, but the smallest of smiles still managed to appear on his face. His expression gave Eddie the slightest comfort, despite the chaos erupting inside his head-

-Just like Richie had done in the cistern. 

_You’re braver than you think._

_Thanks, Rich._

With the others still searching for his glasses, Richie glanced up towards the cliff from where they’d jumped. The sun shone down on his face, illuminating the streaks that lined his cheeks from freshly-fallen tears. Rays of light gleamed in his eyes, shining so brightly-

-Oh fuck.

Oh no, please, no. 

Richie left the tunnel first. 

Eddie wasn’t far behind. 

Richie, he-

-He got caught in the Deadlights. 

Richie was going to die. 

Eddie...speared the clown to save Richie. 

_It kills monsters, if you believe it does._

_If you believe it does._

_If you believe it does._

Richie was okay, he was safe. 

Eddie saved him. 

_Richie, listen...I think I got him, man. I did, I think I killed it!_

Eddie felt so brave, so triumphant and exhilarated, he-

_Richie...Richie?_

_...Eddie-_

A wave of pain struck Eddie in the abdomen, almost knocking him over. He lurched, mouth hanging open in agony as he instinctively clutched his stomach tightly with both arms. 

_Richie...I gotta tell you something._

_What? What’s up, buddy?_

_I fucked your mom._

Eddie saved Richie.

The clown pierced Eddie through the stomach. 

And then there was pain.

So, so much pain. 

But they were all there together again. 

And Eddie told them to make the clown feel small. 

So they did. 

And as they fought, a shadow crept into the edges of Eddie’s eyesight. He could hear the shouting voices of his friends growing more distant, the fiery pain that enveloped his body turning to a dull sensation. The darkness swallowed his vision, and soon his body as well, caressing him like a gentle hand. 

Eddie’s grip loosened on Richie’s jacket. 

He saw nothing. 

Felt nothing. 

And then his last breath left his body. 

Violently jerking his head back and forth to rid his mind of the memory, Eddie whipped around in the water and threw himself in Richie’s direction. Everything around Eddie seemed to fade. The sunlight grew cold, the vibrant water bleak. Winds that once whistled against the quarry walls were now silent. 

_...Eddie, he...he’s all alone d-down there, Bev, h-he...he hates the dark..._

Eddie stopped in front of Richie, who now held his newly-retrieved glasses in his hands, staring down at them. He felt his throat start to close again, something blurring his vision. A choked cry escaped Eddie's lips when he realized it was his own tears. Eddie brought one hand up to cover his mouth, tucking the other across his chest in an attempt to reign in his racing heart. 

“N-no...,” Eddie sobbed, throwing his arms around Richie’s unknowing form. He squeezed the taller man with all of his strength, desperately trying to prove himself wrong. “No, no, no...n-no, please, I-”

There was a reason Eddie had no memory of leaving Neibolt, no recollection of arriving at the path to the quarry. A reason he couldn’t bring himself to believe. 

“Rich, I...I’m...so...so s-sorry, Richie...please, I-”

He had no memory of leaving Neibolt because he never did. Not his body, at least... 

“Oh, fuck....d-dammit, dammit...DAMMIT!”

...Because Eddie Kaspbrak was dead.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Arms Tonite - Mother Mother
> 
> I fell in your arms tonight  
> I fell hard in your arms tonight  
> It was nice  
> I died in your arms tonite  
> I slipped through into the afterlife  
> It was nice  
> White light in your arms tonight  
> I lost sight in your arms tonight  
> It was nice
> 
> And hey, you  
> Don't you think it's kind of cute  
> That I (I) died (died) right inside your arms tonight  
> That I'm fine even after I have died  
> Because it was in your arms I died
> 
> I cry in the after life  
> I cry hard because I have died and you're alive  
> I try to escape afterlife  
> I try hard to get back inside your arms alive
> 
> And hey (hey), you (you)  
> Don't you think it's kind of cute  
> That I (I) tried (tried) to escape the afterlife  
> That I (I) tried (tried) to get back in your arms alive  
> That I died in your arms that night
> 
> I fell hard in your arms  
> I went and died in your arms that night
> 
> I fell in your arms tonight  
> Suicide in your arms
> 
> And hey, you  
> Don't you think it's kind of cute  
> That I (I) died (died) right inside your arms tonight  
> That I'm fine even after I have died  
> That I (I) tried (tried) to escape the afterlife  
> That I (I) tried (tried) to get back in your arms alive  
> That I died in your arms that night  
> I fell in your arms tonight  
> I died in your arms tonight  
> I died in your arms tonight  
> I fell in your arms tonight


	2. Two Birds

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: IMPLIED SUICIDE

Richie’s warmth began to fade. 

It fled like the final rays of sun that lit the sky before a storm. In its fleeting moments, Eddie tightened his embrace. The coldness of his lonely world closed in far too quickly, snuffing out the flame between them. 

Eddie timidly sank into the water next to Richie, listless.

The water was no longer cold on his skin in the same way the sun could no longer warm his body. He was nothing, nonexistent. 

Dead. 

Eddie was dead. 

And now, he was trapped. Invisible to the senses of others, nothing but a formless shadow unable to manifest into anything more than fleeting dream. Unable to speak with his friends for the rest of eternity and have them hear him. 

Thoughts trapped in a thick haze, Eddie latched a shaky hand onto the sleeve of Richie’s shirt. He wasn’t sure how long they stayed in the water, practically bathing in their own filth. The part that scared him was that he didn’t seem to care. In time, the other Losers slowly waded towards the shore. Eddie let himself be guided blindly by Richie, still clutching onto the torn seams of his sleeve. He carelessly dragged his feet along dirt path as they trudged on. 

The group traveled in silence, like they had on their hike to the quarry’s cliff. It was a strange comfort then, Eddie all too aware of the overwhelming relief of the hardships they’d faced. But now, as Eddie trailed behind the others unseen, it was nothing less than torment. 

Torture in its absolute worst form. 

To be so close to his friends, yet incapable of telling them so. To be haunted by the memories from his life, not knowing the things he said to those close to him would be his last. To be forced to watch the Losers mourn his death, all of them oblivious to his presence right beside them. 

Eddie had never put much thought into what it was like to die. The first time he did was the summer they faced the clown, back when they were all just kids. The day Eddie broke his arm in the house on Neibolt. His mother kept him locked away from the other Losers for a while after that. And although the memory of those weeks were blurred, Eddie knew that they were some of the worst of his life. 

So isolated, so alone. All of his friends just barely out of his reach. 

_”Were you scared...that you were gonna die? That day at Neibolt?” Richie asked him one night while the other Losers were asleep. He and Eddie laid outside in the grass, hands resting behind their heads while they gazed up at the stars. Richie had a nightmare about their fight with the clown again and wanted to get some air._

_In all honesty, Eddie wasn’t really sure. He never thought about it much, or tried not to at least. “Uh, yeah. I guess so.”_

_Richie paused. “I was,” He admitted quietly, “When we heard you screaming from downstairs, I thought...I thought It got you.”_

_Eddie didn’t know how to reply._

_”I’m...glad It didn’t,” Richie muttered, shifting his head so Eddie couldn’t see his face._

_Eddie stared at him for a long time. “Me too.”_

Releasing a shuddering breath, Eddie forced back the tears that built in the corners of his eyes. He tried so fucking hard to fight back, to finally face his fears head-on and defeat that damn clown for good. 

But It got to him first. 

Eddie flinched at the recent memory, hand unconsciously drifting towards his abdomen. Vivid images flashed in his mind of seeing that jagged claw jut out from his stomach. It was excruciating. 

_Richie...Richie?_

_Eddie…_

“Shit,” Eddie breathed, bringing up his free hand to wipe his face. The other hand still remained latched onto Richie’s sleeve, guiding Eddie through the outskirts of Derry. He’d never stopped shaking. For the first time since leaving the quarry, Eddie built up the strength to glance up at Richie. The man stopped crying, his very apparent distress now replaced with a stoic frown. But Eddie grew up with Richie, and he knew those eyes all too well. A deep, raw agony pooled within them, sucking out the light that was once there. 

It was devastating to witness. 

Eddie’s stomach dropped when they turned the final corner and found themselves face-to-face with the front of the Townhouse. Just yesterday, all six of them determinedly passed through its doors. And now only five will walk through them once again, dirtied and worn but very much alive. 

Another rush of tears threatened to spill as the group walked the path leading up to the house, Eddie unconsciously shifting his hand to grasp Richie’s shoulder for support. Dazed, he carefully climbed the few steps towards the front door and waited for the others to step inside. Eddie watched as Bill, then Mike, Beverly, Ben, and Richie all stepped through the doorway and into the house. And oddly enough, Eddie found himself wearing a tired smile. He may not have made it, but his own sacrifice saved the others and helped them defeat It forever. 

And for this short, fleeting moment...that was enough. 

As Mike made to shut the door, Eddie slipped inside. He stood in the foyer, feeling out of place as the others threw off their dirty jackets and muddied shoes. The thuds of their clothes as they landed on the floor echoed through the halls of the old building. 

A floorboard down the hall creaked. 

Then another, closer this time. Eddie whipped his head around to face the noise, his senses still heightened from his recent encounters with the clown. He relaxed for the shortest moment when he saw that none of the Losers acknowledged it. But as quickly as it came, Eddie’s ease was replaced by a surge of adrenaline when he spotted the silhouette of another person down the hall. Nobody else was staying at the Townhouse, though. The Losers had occupied all the rooms. 

“Oh, thank you,” The figure sighed loudly, the relief in their voice very apparent. “Thank you.” 

Eddie tried to peer around the others as the figure before him finally stepped under the dim foyer light. He waited for the Losers to make their way into the other room, remaining where he was. A man now stood before him, face illuminated by the soft glow from above them. He was tall, had dark curly hair and eyes to match, with a face that Eddie _swore_ he knew-

“Oh, fuck,” Eddie breathed, color draining from his face as his realization struck him. 

The man’s gaze shot towards Eddie at his words, a perplexed expression growing on his face. He glanced over his shoulder, following Eddie’s line of sight. A few moments of silence passed before the man turned back, taking a step towards Eddie and squinting as if trying to deduct if Eddie was truly staring at _him_. 

Eddie took a small step forward in disbelief. “...Stan?” 

Upon hearing his name, Stanley’s eyes slowly fell shut as he cursed to himself. He heaved a breath through gritted teeth and brought two clenched fists up to his head, only to sharply throw them down again in anguish. When Stanley finally managed opened his eyes again, tears cascaded down his cheeks. “No...no...no, no, no!” 

Eddie found himself crying as well, realizing what was probably going through his old friend’s head. He didn’t move to wipe away his tears. 

Stanley was dead.

And now, so was Eddie. 

“Eddie...” Stanley whispered, bottom lip quivering slightly. 

“Hey, Stan the Man,” Eddie breathed through his tears, wearing a broken, sad smile. 

Stanley huffed a surprised laugh at his old nickname, his smile quickly fading as the reality of Eddie’s fate sunk in. He surged forward, pulling Eddie into a tight embrace. Eddie hugged him back tightly, a bittersweet pain flowing through him as he felt Stanley's body tremble against his own. He didn’t remember Stanley as a very touchy person, but under the circumstances, the gesture was more than just a simple comfort. 

“...I’m s-sorry Eddie,” Stanley stammered into Eddie’s shoulder, sniffing. 

“Stan-” Eddie started, pulling back to look at Stanley’s face. 

“...It wasn’t supposed to end this way,” Stanley uttered, misery in his eyes, “You...you weren’t supposed to…”

Another tear slipped down Eddie’s face. “It’s okay,” He said, voice still a bit shaky, his words seemingly directed towards Stanley but really for his own sake. They still felt empty to him, however, for it certainly _wasn't_ okay. None of this was, no matter how much Eddie tried to convince himself otherwise. The short relief he felt for saving his friends wisped away in an instant. “We beat It, together. For good this time, I think.” 

“It’s over?” Stanley gripped Eddie’s shoulders, expression softening. 

“Yeah,” Eddie sighed, a strange sensation of both calmness and sorrow building in his chest. “Stan, I-”

 _“No, just stop! I...I just...need to be alone...please.”_

A voice from the other room cut Eddie off, causing the pair to glance towards the archway next to them. Eddie jumped as Richie stormed past them, fresh tears streaking his cracked glasses and spilling down his face. Richie bolted up the stairs, feet pounding harshly on the wooden floor above. The sound of a slamming door jolted through the house. 

Eddie subconsciously took a few steps towards the stairs and made to follow Richie, but a firm and steady hand on his arm stopped him. Grief flashed across Stanley’s face at the sight of Richie in such pain. But there was something else was in his expression, too. Something that Eddie couldn’t quite make out. 

He recognized that same look from when they were kids. 

Stanley sighed, looking at Eddie, whose mouth was now in a tight line as he glanced back at the empty stares with glassy eyes. “Hey,” Stanley said empathetically, shoving his hands in his pockets and nodding his head towards the end of the hall, “Let’s talk.” 

With a nod, Eddie let Stanley guide him through the Townhouse and out the back door. They settled down underneath the large oak tree with their back towards the house. Eddie waited for Stanley to break the silence, but soon realized that Stanley had been waiting for him to do the same. Both of them harbored so many questions but too afraid to ask them aloud. As if speaking the words would forever seal their fated demise that didn't quite seem real yet. 

“Why...how are you here?” Eddie finally asked with a cracked voice, keeping his eyes forward. He pulled his knees in towards himself and wrapped his arms around them. 

Stanley’s eyes fell to the ground. “I wasn’t going to come, not at first.” 

“What do you mean?” Eddie questioned. 

“I never wanted to come back to this place,” Stanley admitted, closing his eyes as he exhaled a deep breath. His fingers ghosted over a cluster of jagged scars on his wrist. “Not even in death.” 

Eddie’s eyes followed Stanley’s fingers as they traced the marks on his arm, heart clenching. Memories of Beverly’s phone call with Stanley’s wife flashed through his mind as he stared. 

Stanley opened his eyes and glanced over at Eddie, catching him staring. He chose not to acknowledge it. “When Mike called, I...I knew I couldn’t come back here. To face...It again. But I also knew that if we weren’t all together, united, you'd lose in the end,” Stanley admitted in a vulnerable voice, “I was so scared, Eddie.” 

Eddie shivered with fright. 

Stanley thought the man was mad with him. 

Unable to find the words, Eddie reached over and placed a hand on Stanley’s shoulder. He gave it a squeeze, a somber smile forming on his face when Stanley pressed a hand on top of his own. Stanley released a loud breath as if he’d been holding it in, and nodded quickly with relieved understanding. 

“There was a service here for me at the Temple,” Stanley added after a few moments of comfortable silence, “Patty flew in for it, and...I didn’t want her to come here alone.” 

Eddie listened, pretending not to notice when Stanley had to pause and glance towards the sky, blinking rapidly to ward away tears. 

“I knew you all would be at the Townhouse, Mike said so on the phone. But even after coming all the way here...I froze up. I couldn’t do it,” Stanley confessed, shaking his head. “But then Richie, he...he showed up at the Temple. I almost didn’t even recognize him until he saw down in the exact spot he did for my Bar Mitzvah. 

“He only said five words: Thanks for showing up, Stan. And I _knew_ he couldn’t see me, but I swear Eddie, he was looking right at me when he said it. And seeing him all grown up for the first time in so long? Everything came back and hit me like a train. Memories of us, all of them, from when we were kids. Not the bad ones, though. These were all good. The best ones. 

“It made me remember that I loved you all _more_ than I feared It. And I just had to know if you all were alright. When Richie left the Temple, I did too, but I came here and everyone was gone. So I waited.” 

Eddie nodded, face softening as he wrapped an arm around Stanley’s shoulder to pull him into a half-embrace. “...I’m really glad you’re here, Stan.” 

Stanley weakly smiled back, a single tear escaping the corner of his eye. He quickly wiped it away and sniffed. “I missed you.” 

“I missed you too, buddy,” Eddie replied, squeezing Stanley’s shoulders once more before pulling back and moving to sit with his legs crossed. He started to pick at the grass in front of him to alleviate the nerves building up in his core. 

“Eddie?” Stanley frowned, watching the man’s hands as they shredded blades of grass into tiny fragments. It didn't take long to pick up on Eddie's sudden change in demeanor. His eyes grew more distant by the second, and Eddie knew it too.

“Hm?” Eddie hummed, hazed eyes fixated on the grass. 

“What…” Stanley started, unsure of how to phrase his question. “What happened down there?” 

Eddie’s hands stopped moving as a new dread pooled in his core. He wasn't ready to talk about it, the grief was far too near. But, as the images of the fight flashed so vividly in Eddie's mind, he knew he'd have to accept this new reality at one point or another. No matter how much it slowly killed him inside. “Uh,” Eddie breathed, voice suddenly growing much fainter, “We all went in together, and got split up inside the well-house. You attacked us once. Not _you_ you, obviously, but...spider-you.” 

“It turned into...me?” Stanley asked, face paling. 

“Yeah,” Eddie said, running a hand through his hair with a shudder, “That was, uh, pretty messed up. But we fought It off and made it down into the sewers. Mike, he had us try this ritual. We collected tokens and they were supposed to make It go away, to trap It. But that didn’t work and we got split up again.” 

A pause. Stanley made no move to push Eddie to continue until he was ready. 

“It made us see things when we were apart, trying to scare us. Richie and I got trapped in a tunnel, and when we came out...It caught Richie in the Deadlights. I speared It right in the face and I thought I killed It,” Eddie’s voice had grown quieter than a whisper, hands balling into fists, “I turned to wake Richie up, and…” 

Eddie stopped, glancing down at his torso. He hadn’t thought to look before, but if Stanley still wore the scars his death...then Eddie probably had his own as well. His hands fumbled as he reached out and grabbed the bottom of his shirt. Slowly, Eddie lifted it up to reveal a long, jagged line that stretched almost the entire length of his abdomen. It was dark against his skin, with outstretching tendrils that made it resemble a bolt of lightning. The sight gave Eddie a chill. He hadn’t realized just how bad it was until now. 

Stanley stared in horror, leaning forward slightly to view the entire wound. “Shit, Eddie…” He breathed, not bothering to mask the dismay in his voice. 

Eddie continued, fighting back tears at the shocked expression on Stanley’s face. He knew if he stopped now, he’d break again. The familiar sting in his eyes and clench of his burning throat was enough to tell him that. “That stupid, fucking clown...It got me. Threw me aside. Everyone came over to help me, and that’s when I told them to make It feel small. Just like I did at the pharmacy. Make It shrink small enough so they could defeat him. And they did. Richie stayed with me, put his jacket on me to stop the bleeding. Then he left to go help, and...that’s all I can remember before everything goes dark.” 

“I’m sorry,” Stanley said again, his expression grief-stricken. 

“I think I, uh,” Eddie added voice a bit louder again. Dizziness struck him once again and sent him into another drained and hazy state. The toll those memories took on his body were too much to bear for long, even if he was already dead. He barely even acknowledged the grass beside him that was no longer torn from the grown, as if it'd never been touched by his hand. Eddie shook his head and inhaled deeply, blinking rapidly a few times. “I’m still processing all of this. It was...a lot, I guess.” 

“Yeah,” Stanley nodded, a dry laugh escaping his mouth, “Same here.” 

“I meant what I said before,” Eddie added, his voice genuine. At least one good thing came out of this complete and utter disaster. “I’m...really fucking happy you’re here with us, Stan.” 

Stanley sighed, glancing over with a tired half-smile. “Me too, Eddie.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Two Birds - Regina Spektor
> 
> Two birds on a wire  
> One tries to fly away  
> And the other watches him close from that wire  
> He says he wants to as well  
> But he is a liar
> 
> I'll believe it all  
> There's nothing I won't understand
> 
> I'll believe it all  
> I won't let go of your hand
> 
> Two birds on a wire  
> One says c'mon and the other says "I'm tired"  
> The sky is overcast and I'm sorry  
> One more or one less  
> Nobody's worried
> 
> I'll believe it all  
> There's nothing I won't understand
> 
> I'll believe it all  
> I won't let go of your hand
> 
> Two birds of a feather  
> Say that they're always gonna stay together  
> But one's never going to let go of that wire  
> He says that he will  
> But he's just a liar
> 
> Two birds on a wire  
> One tries to fly away and the other  
> Watches him close from that wire  
> He says he wants to as well, but he is a liar
> 
> Two birds on a wire  
> One tries to fly away and the other


	3. If I Be Wrong

Despite the lack of warmth, the sun calmed Eddie's nerves as he laid outside with Stanley. 

He longed to feel the chill of the summer breeze that blew through the yard, still desperately trying to cling to the life he’d lost so suddenly. The wind, however, was nothing more than an odd pressure against his exposed skin. It provided the strangest sensation that made him feel as though he were trapped in a bubble. But Eddie wasn’t alone anymore, at least. He had Stanley with him now. Someone who could understand his agony, and someone he could talk to. 

The pair sat together for what felt like hours, occasionally breaking the silence with another question or recollection. Their comments were mostly nostalgic at first, like sharing memories from the Clubhouse, the quarry, and the arcade. Racing each other on their bikes and finding secret shortcuts to help them win. Sleeping over at each other’s houses, staying up and playing games. 

It was therapeutic.

The act provided them both with a short break from the horrors that haunted their new, strange world. It helped them remember that Derry wasn’t _all_ bad, despite what Mike’s calls originally made them think. Neither of them mentioned the disheartening reminder that they would never be able to experience those memories again. 

They were certainly both thinking it, though. 

Some time passed, and the questions that Eddie shoved to the back of his mind began to re-surface. He didn't know how to ask the darker ones, the ones that loomed near the edges of his subconscious and threatened to break free. But luckily, the burden was taken off his shoulders when Stanley finally asked, “What happened after everything went dark?” 

Those words sent the pair spiraling down a very different conversation than the lighter ones they’d just had. They soon fired questions back and forth, relieved to finally have someone that understood this other-worldly, confounding experience. Together, the pair discussed what it was like when they “woke up” after their deaths. 

What triggered them to realize that they weren’t alive anymore. 

How it felt to watch their loved ones mourn for them. 

Stanley picked up on the pain that laced Eddie’s voice when he spoke of Richie in the quarry. Of how Richie wept so deeply for him. Stanley placed a comforting hand on Eddie’s shoulder as he spoke, the act grounding Eddie and clearing the fog in his mind. He suddenly found himself wondering what Myra would start to think when he failed to respond to her calls-

Shit. 

It was then that Eddie realized this was the first moment since the quarry, since his _death_ , that he’d thought of Myra. The initial shock of his demise had been too much to let him think about anything other than the present. But as that panic started to subside, flashes of his life outside Derry came crashing back all at once. 

Eddie just widowed his wife. 

“Shit,” Eddie cursed, head in his hands, as he thought about how he vanished without telling Myra where he was going. How he ignored her constant calls and texts while he was here. How he went and got himself killed, leaving her alone. How...the grief he felt for losing her was but a fraction of what he felt upon seeing Richie’s face in the quarry, or seeing the pained expressions on the other Losers faces as they tried to comfort him. 

It was too much at once, and being outside was suddenly too overwhelming. The sky had grown dark, morphing into an endless void that threatened to swallow him entirely. So Eddie did what he’d always done when his thoughts started to eat him alive...he fled. “I’m gonna go back in,” Eddie said, standing and brushing the remnants of grass off his clothes. It wasn’t until now that he noticed how clean they were. And it certainly wasn’t his swim in the quarry that did that. He chose not to overthink it. “I want to check on them.” 

“I’ll go with you,” Stanley nodded, joining Eddie at his side. 

Giving Stanley a thankful nod, Eddie made his way back towards the Townhouse. He quietly slipped inside, followed by Stanley, before making his way towards the sound of hushed voices from down the hall. The pair rounded the corner into the front room of the building, which housed a large dining table. Adjacent to the room, connected by a large archway, was the room with the familiar bar and cushioned seats. 

Stanley exhaled a shaky breath next to him as they caught sight of the Losers spread out across the room, sitting in silence. All except Richie, that is. He must’ve still been up in his room. “Look at you,” Stanley said to nobody in particular, his voice caught between both a laugh and a cry. It was his first time really seeing the others since they were kids, rather than a passing when they first got back. 

Eddie glanced over at him, offering a somber smile, before turning back to face the rest of the group. Beverly and Ben shared the couch, sitting close enough that their knees touched. Beverly’s head rested tiredly on Ben’s shoulder as she stared ahead at nothing. Mike sat across from them, arms crossed over his chest as he stared at Bill, who sat at one of the stools in front of the bar. They’d all changed into new clothes since getting back. 

“Okay,” Bill said, throwing his hands to his sides with a shrug, “It’s b-b-been hours. We have to make a d-decision.” 

Eddie frowned. 

A decision about what?

A tear fell from the corner of Beverly’s eye as she sat up. She wiped it away with the back of her hand. “He’s right,” She said timidly. “So what do we do?” 

“She has the right to know,” Ben said, eyes shifting to each Loser as he spoke. 

“Who?” Stanley asked, leaning over towards Eddie. 

Eddie didn’t respond, unsure. 

“B-but what would we tell her?” Bill countered. 

Ben sighed. “The truth?” 

“Ben,” Beverly started, looking up at him with conflicted eyes. “I know that’s normally the right thing to do, but...none of what happened here is normal.” 

“If you _do_ tell her about Eddie, you can’t tell her the truth about how it happened,” Mike argued, his expression stoic. 

Oh, fuck. 

“My wife,” Eddie said, heart racing in his chest, “They’re talking about Myra. What to tell her.” 

Stanley frowned and shot him a stunned glance. “You never said anything about being married.” 

Eddie sighed and shifted uncomfortably where he stood. He could feel Stanley's eyes burning into the side of his face but refused to turn and face him. “...I had a lot on my mind.” 

“And his b-b-b-body,” Bill stuttered, struggling greatly with that word as he rubbed his watering eyes, “...He’s at Neibolt. T-there’s...no proof he’s d-dead.” 

“What are you saying?” Beverly asked hesitantly. 

“That it’s best if…” Mike trailed off for a moment to collect himself, shaking his head in disbelief that he’d agree with such a terrible plan. “...we just let people think he went missing.” 

Fucking hell...

A silence filled the room for what felt like an eternity, most likely because the others knew Bill and Mike were right. Ben groaned, leaning forward and burying his face in his hands. “This is so messed up.” 

Despair surged from Eddie’s chest in waves at their words, hating to see how much it hurt the others to talk about him like this. But they were right, weren't they? This was the best plan, and the only one that would keep all the other Losers safe. Eddie cringed to himself as he pictured Myra at their home, recruiting an entire police force to try and find him. Eddie didn’t know how long Stanley had been watching him when he finally glanced up at his friend. He was met with a pitiful glance from Stanley before the man reached up to give Eddie's shoulder another grounding squeeze. 

“I know,” Bill uttered quietly, staring at the ground. “But it’s the only w-way.” 

The group nodded in silent agreement. A few moments passed before Beverly silently stood and made her way over to the sink behind the bar. She pulled five glasses from the cupboard, filling each with a handful of ice and water. “I know eating or drinking anything right now feels impossible,” She said as she passed a glass to everyone, “But we should at least drink some water.” 

“Thanks, Bev,” They each replied as Beverly handed them their glass, taking the smallest of sips. But as the group drank, they must have realized how dehydrated they’d grown. Within minutes, their glasses were empty. 

Beverly grabbed the fifth untouched glass and made her way towards the stairs, not bothering to mask the worry that had quickly overtaken her face. Eddie followed, knowing immediately where she intended to take it. He didn’t even notice Stanley had stayed behind until he was alone with Beverly, standing outside Richie’s door. Eddie’s heart started racing again. When he saw Richie storm past him downstairs, he looked nearly as bad as he did in the quarry. That was hours ago, and Richie still hadn’t come out of his room since. 

“Richie,” Beverly called gingerly, lightly tapping her knuckles on his door. “Can you open the door for me?” 

Eddie didn’t move, watching in fear as Beverly waited for a reply. Why were his hands shaking? 

“Rich,” Beverly said again when she heard shuffling from the other side of the door, “Richie, honey, I know you’re in there. I brought you some water.” 

More footsteps from behind the door. It sounded like Richie was pacing back and forth behind it. Eddie swallowed, his concern for Richie only growing as he stepped closer beside Beverly. Richie had always been the type to keep to himself if something was wrong, much to Eddie's distaste, but he'd never acted like this before. Especially not with Beverly. 

Beverly weakly kicked the door with her foot. Her face scrunched as she spoke, fresh tears falling and her voice cracking. “...I’m not leaving until you open the door, Richie.” 

The shuffling inside the bedroom suddenly stopped. Eddie held his breath as he watched a shadow approach from under the door. A sound of a latch came next, followed by the squeak of the old rusted door knob being turned from the other side. The door slowly swung open, the faint light from the hallway lights flooding into the dark room. 

Eddie gasped at the sight, his hand flying up to cover his mouth. 

Richie stepped forward through the threshold, his appearance somehow even worse than what it was before. He wore the same tattered clothes from the quarry, splatters of Eddie’s dried blood still streaking across the front of his shirt. His hair was a ragged mess, glasses askew on his face. The lenses were so smudged with dried tears that Eddie could see them all the way from the hallway. 

“Oh, Richie,” Beverly cried, stepping forward and reaching out to her friend. She abruptly stopped in place when Richie sharply recoiled, wrapping his hands tightly around his torso. Very clearly hurt by Richie’s response, but trying her best to cover it up, Beverly held the glass of water in front of her. “Here,” She said with a sniff, “take it.” 

Drawn forward by a subconscious pull, Eddie strode through the doorway and into Richie’s room. He turned, watching Richie take the glass with a shaky hand. Seeming to know that Beverly wouldn’t leave until she saw him take a drink, Richie raised the glass to his mouth and took a small sip. He exhaled, eyes falling shut. “...Thanks Bevvie,” He muttered, making to shut the door. 

“Richie, wait,” Beverly said, reaching forward and forcing her hand against the door to hold it slightly ajar. Richie didn’t fight back. “We’re all here for you,” She blinked back her tears and mustered the best smile she could. “Come downstairs when you’re ready, okay? We’ll be waiting for you.” 

Eddie watched as Richie stared back at her, giving her a pondering look. He was thinking deeply about something, his eyes narrowing. Almost a minute passed before Richie shook his head, eyes falling towards the wooden floor. His voice cracked when he replied, “...I’m not ready yet.” 

“Hey, hey, that’s okay,” Beverly whispered with another gentle smile, desperately trying to comfort Richie before he set himself off again. She reached up to wipe the tears that pooled at the corners of her eyes. “You get some rest, alright?” 

Richie nodded, unable to look Beverly in the eyes again. He waited until she made to head back downstairs before quickly shutting the door and locking it again. And with the last click of the latch on the door, Eddie was alone with Richie. Frozen where he stood, Eddie stared as Richie made his way over to his bed. He sat down on its edge, feet outstretched as he brought the glass back to his mouth and downed the entire thing in one go. With a heavy breath, Richie held the now-empty glass in front of him, slowly rotating it in his hand. 

He let the glass clatter to the floor with a few loud clanks, making Eddie jump. 

Unsure of what to do with himself, Eddie made his way over to the bed and sat down next to Richie. They both sat in silence, only one of them aware the other was even there. It took a long time before Eddie could bring himself to look up at Richie’s face, sorrow consuming his mind every time he did. His talk outside with Stanley brought so much back. Memories he didn’t even know he still had now sat at the forefront of his mind, growing clearer and more vivid with every passing hour. Richie meant the world to Eddie, he always had. Even when they bickered, argued, and annoyed the absolute shit out of each other, Richie was his best friend. 

And then that fucking clown showed up and ruined everything, making them forget each other and the rest of the Losers when they moved away from Derry. They spent well over two decades spent apart, unaware the others even existed. Not knowing where they’d grown up, or who they’d grown up with. Going on with their adult lives, living in a complete, unbreakable ignorance. 

Raw anger swelled in the pit of Eddie’s stomach, his fists tightly clenching the bed sheets at his sides. It wasn’t fucking fair. None of this was fucking fair at all. Eddie had _just_ gotten his friends back again. His _true_ friends that loved and cared for one another far more than any other friend he’d made in his life. People that he hadn’t seen in decades yet trusted with his life in a matter of hours. 

But now, Stanley was dead and _he_ was dead and all of the other Losers were alive and most certainly scarred for life after the traumatic events they’d faced. 

Everything was just so _fucked!_

Hot tears spilled down Eddie’s face. There was so much more he wanted to do, so much more he wanted to be. And now he’ll never get the chance again. Every day beyond this moment will be a reminder of that terrible fact. How as soon as he found the missing piece of himself he hadn’t even known he was searching for, it was ripped away from him. An agonizing ache in his chest tore away at his heart, but Eddie no longer had the strength to care.

A movement beside Eddie pulled him from his trance, and he turned to find Richie scooting towards the top of the bed. The man slowly reached over towards the nightstand, switching off the single lamp that had barely done anything to brighten the area. A darkness overtook the room, light from the moon outside pouring in through the window on the far wall. 

Richie tossed his glasses on the nightstand and laid down on his side, facing away from the locked door. Instinctively gravitating towards his friend, Eddie found himself laying across from Richie with one arm resting beneath his head and the other resting in front of him on the bed. Eddie couldn’t make out most of Richie’s face, but there was just enough light to see a faint shimmer in his eyes. 

He didn’t need any more light to know that Richie was crying. 

At the sound of hushed whimpers coming from across the bed, all of the the anger Eddie had built vanished in the quickest instant. Images appeared in his mind, more memories, of their late nights spent together when the other Losers were asleep. They spent so many nights sleeping over in Bill’s basement, sometimes Stanley’s, or even Ben’s or Richie's. The Losers all had developed this unspoken understanding that none of them felt safe sleeping alone anymore. Not after that summer with the clown. 

Richie and Eddie slept next to each other every time, accustomed to the other’s sleeping habits. They knew each other’s mannerisms and could always tell when the other was having a nightmare. One would rouse the other whenever it happened and they’d go for a walk. Or sit outside. Or sometimes just stay where they were, reassuring hands barely touching in the small space between them. 

And now, face-to-face with Richie once more, it felt like they’d traveled back to that summer again. Richie looked like a child again, the way he held himself so vulnerably in the dark where nobody could see him. Eddie watched in a helpless silence, heart breaking as Richie moved to stifle the sounds of his cries into his pillow. Every sound brought a pain to Eddie's stomach that rivaled the tear of his skin beneath the clown's claw. It was pure agony.

“Rich,” Eddie whispered, fully aware that the man couldn’t hear him. With great care, Eddie lifted his hand and placed it on top of Richie’s just like he used to do when they were young. Not completely holding his hand, but just enough to let him know that he was there...even if Richie was unaware of Eddie's presence beside him. Eddie cringed at the thought, but didn’t move his hand. 

“It got me this time, Rich,” Eddie uttered, staring at Richie through the darkness. “I wasn’t quick enough.” 

Richie shook where he laid, breathing shallow, quick breaths through clenched teeth. 

“I wish I made it,” Eddie admitted with a heavy sigh, “Being dead fucking sucks.” Just when he thought he didn’t have any more tears the cry, more came spilling down his face. He ignored them. The sounds of both Richie’s and Eddie’s cries filled the room as Eddie continued. 

“But...you’re _not_ dead” Eddie said, sucking in a sharp breath before slowing releasing it, “When we were down there, I thought...I thought It was gonna get you. And I just couldn’t sit there and let that happen.” 

Eddie sniffed, blinking back the tears that currently blurred his vision. Without a second thought, he found himself reaching up and placing his hand on the side of Richie’s face. It was wet with tears. 

“I’m...glad It didn’t get you, Richie,” Eddie whispered, leaving his hand resting where it was. He laid together in silence after that, any concept of time lost to him. Eddie wasn’t even sure if he could even still sleep anymore, and after a few hours of futile attempts, it seemed the answer was no. But even so, Eddie found himself in a strangely calm state, listening intently to the sounds of Richie’s breathing and a light wind against the far window. 

Richie was alive, It didn't get him.

And for this short, fleeting moment, that was enough.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If I Be Wrong - Wolf Larsen
> 
> What if I'm wrong, what if I've lied  
> What if I've dragged you here to my own dark night  
> And what if I know, what if I see  
> There is a crack run right down the front of me
> 
> What if they're right, what if we're wrong  
> What if I've lured you here with a siren song?  
> What if I be wrong, if I be right  
> Let me be here with you tonight
> 
> Ten thousand cars, ten thousand trains  
> There are ten thousand roads to run away
> 
> But I am not lost, I am not found  
> I am not Dylan's wife, not Cohen's hound
> 
> What if I be wrong, if I be right  
> Let me be here with you tonight
> 
> And what if I can't, what if I can  
> What if I'm just an ordinary man
> 
> If there is a will, there is a way  
> I will escape for sure, I am David Blane  
> But if I be wrong, if I be right  
> Let me be here with you  
> If I be wrong, if I be right  
> Let me stay here in your arms tonight
> 
> And I have been wrong, I have been right  
> I have been both these things all in the same night  
> So if I be wrong, if I be right  
> Let me here, with you, tonight


	4. Rootless

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: IMPLIED DOMESTIC ABUSE

Early dawn sunlight poured in between the slits of the blinds and onto the faded wooden floor. In silence, Eddie watched the day break from his spot on the bed, leaning back against the headboard with his hands folded over his waist. He came to realize that he’d never slowed down and taken a moment to appreciate how beautiful the sunrise was. It welcomed him with a wordless greeting, the sky gradually turning from pink to orange to blue. The light from the window eventually reached Eddie’s feet, and yet he felt no warmth. 

Another sour reminder of his tragic end. 

Eddie sighed, turning his head to glance over at Richie. The poor man hadn’t slept a wink all night. He just laid there, tossing and turning, gradually reaching the early cusps of sleep before jolting up in bed again and again. Eddie wasn’t sure what Richie saw behind his closed eyes that had him so terrified of falling asleep, but he had a hunch. 

It was difficult at first, being forced to watch Richie in pain without the ability to soothe him like Eddie had when they were children. He certainly tried at the start, rubbing gentle circles on Richie’s back with his hand or wrapping his arms around his shoulders. If Eddie wasn’t already dead, the sight certainly would have killed him. Even so, Eddie stayed where he was, unmoving. He knew that he’d have to come to terms with his death at one point or another.

So Eddie laid there helplessly as Richie tossed and turned beside him, contemplating. Lost in his thoughts until midday, at the least. Eddie wasn’t sure. When it became clear that Richie had no plans of getting out of bed any time soon, Eddie stood, stretching his arms as he walked towards the door. With one final look back at Richie, Eddie slipped out of the room. He could hear a few voices from downstairs and made his way towards them. Passing a clock on his way down, Eddie saw it was already past noon. 

Eddie rounded the corner towards the bar, finding Bill lounging across the couch and Mike reading a book in the chair adjacent to him. What those two didn’t know was that Stanley sat on the back of the couch, one leg tucked underneath himself and the other dangling off the edge. He was leaning over Bill’s shoulder, staring at something the man was typing on his laptop. 

“Hey,” Stanley said when he looked up to find Eddie awkwardly standing in the doorway. He slid to his feet, arms crossing over his chest as he made his way over towards Eddie. A deep look of concern swept over his face. He opened his mouth to speak, hesitating as if trying to find the right words. “How…” He started, gesturing to the stairs behind Eddie with a glance, “How bad is he?” 

Eddie shivered, images of his night watching Richie bolt upright in panicked gasps, hands shaking and sweat lining his forehead. Anguish pooled inside him at the memory, forming a lump in his throat. Eddie excessively tried, and failed, to repress the memory. 

Don’t fucking cry again, dipshit. 

Swallowing, Eddie glanced back at Stanley with an expression of equal worry. His eyes burned from holding back tears and his voice strained when he finally brought himself to answer. “Not good,” Eddie replied, “He couldn’t sleep at all, ended up staying awake the entire night. I...didn’t want to leave him.” 

Stanley stared back, mouth forming a line as he fell into a deep thought. An entire minute passed before his pondering expression faded and was replaced with an exhausted one. “Wasn’t much better down here,” He finally said, glancing back at Bill and Mike, “Bev...she was crying when she came back downstairs last night. She was really worried about Richie.” 

“I am, too,” Eddie admitted, without a second thought. He could feel his heartbeat pick up when he thought back to the sight of Richie standing in the doorway of his room, looking even worse than he had after their fight in the cistern. 

A chill ran down his back. 

“The others mentioned staying here for a few more days, at least,” Stanley added after a pause, “Mostly for Richie’s sake, but...also just to look out for each other while things settle down.” 

Eddie frowned. He hadn’t thought that far ahead. “What happens after that?” 

“What do you mean?” Stanley asked, cocking an eyebrow. 

“After everyone leaves here, goes their separate ways,” Eddie said, apprehension in his voice, “What happens to us?” 

Stanley hesitated, unsure of how to answer. “Whatever we want, I guess...I don’t know for sure. This is all new to me, too.” 

Eddie nodded, stomach twisting in a strange way that made him feel uneasy. Having the Losers all here with him was the only thing keeping him sane through all of this, and the thought of leaving them was something he hadn’t prepared himself for. Not yet, anyways. It was hard enough to come to terms with his own death and embrace the inevitable hell that was watching his friends mourn the loss of him. 

Eddie spent almost the entire night dreadfully pondering the concept. 

That time alone gave him the chance he needed to slow down and process everything that happened to him during the fight with the clown. It didn’t take Eddie long to become trapped in a rampant cycle of his own intrusive thoughts. As he laid in Richie’s bed, engulfed by darkness, he repeated the same phrases out loud to himself again and again in attempt to fight the monsters lurking in his mind. It proved to be a much more difficult task than originally anticipated.

_My name is Eddie Kaspbrak and I am dead._

_I died protecting my friends, and they lived because of me._

_I am dead._

_I wish I wasn’t dead but I don’t regret what I did down there._

_I am dead._

_My friends can’t see or hear me anymore but I am still here for them._

_I am dead._

_I must accept the fact that my life has ended and nothing can change that._

_I am dead._

_I have many regrets but being a Loser was never one of them._

_I am dead._

_I am really, really fucking dead._

_One dead motherfucker._

Eddie silently mouthed them again next to Stanley, trying to subdue his panic before it grew out of control like it had yesterday. This was how things were now, and how they’d always be no matter what. He might as well _try_ and adjust to it. Even if he still didn’t believe jack shit about what he was saying. 

_I am dead._

“What were you doing before I came down?” Eddie asked in a tight voice, changing the subject to something lighter, “I heard talking.” 

Please...anything.

 _Anything_ to distract him from this torture.

“Oh,” Stanley half-smiled tiredly, gesturing for Eddie to follow. He led Eddie to where he originally sat behind Bill, who was feverishly typing away on his laptop. With a nod down towards Bill, Stanley added, “He didn’t sleep well, either, and decided to try and preoccupy himself with finishing his story.” 

“Not going well?” Eddie asked as Bill suddenly slammed both hands on his keyboard, producing a jumbled “JD*$SKAGBD@ASKFB9OF!!OFWBL%FBKLS#&DA” that streaked across his document. 

Stanley huffed a dry laugh. “Yeah, you could say that.” 

Some time passed, the clicking sound of keys on Bill’s laptop the only sound filling the room. Within an hour, he’d written and scrapped over four pages of work, unsatisfied with them all. Eddie and Stanley sat quietly, curiously observing from behind Bill’s shoulders. They read the story as Bill wrote it, making side comments every now and then about what they liked or didn’t like about different parts. 

It was a really pleasant distraction, one that Eddie so desperately needed after spending a majority of the night and morning worrying about Richie. He still glanced up at the doorway every so often, however, hoping to see Richie’s face looking back at him. But Richie never came downstairs. 

Maybe he finally fell asleep, he sure as hell needed the rest. 

If Richie didn’t emerge from his room by this evening, however, Eddie made a mental note to go check on him again. 

Eddie knew he could theoretically check on Richie whenever and however long he wanted, considering Richie couldn’t see him and didn’t even know he was there. But it felt strange to do so, though. Sitting on Richie's bed last night, the man completely oblivious to his presence? Eddie felt uncomfortably out-of-place doing so. Yet at the same time, sitting there with him gave Eddie the comfort he needed to calm himself down after everything that happened, even if just for a short while. 

A movement from the other side of the room pulled Eddie from his thoughts. He watched as Mike stood from his chair and made his way over to Bill, who adjusted himself on the couch so there was enough room for both of them to sit together. “You good, Mikey?” Bill asked, half-closing his laptop to focus on his friend. 

“Yeah,” Mike said warmly, reaching down to snatch something from between the pages of his book, “I just found this caught between some pages in my book. Here, look.” 

Bill reached out, taking the long strip of paper from Mike’s hand. “Oh, wow,” Bill laughed, delicately holding the paper with both hands as if it would rip if he moved too quickly. He reached up to wipe away the single tear brimming in the corner of his eye. “L-l-look at us.” 

Eddie and Stanley leaned in from the other side of the couch, peeking of either of Bill’s shoulders. Once they were close enough, they were able to make out four photos all stacked in a single vertical line. Each picture featured all seven Losers as children, laughing wildly and grinning as they all tried to cram into the same tiny photo booth. 

“I remember that,” Stanley noted quietly, his expression unreadable, “That’s from the arcade.” 

Without responding, Eddie leaned in closer to get a better view. He’d forgotten how young they really were when they met. How innocent they were despite having faced that damn clown for the first time. If only they knew what their futures had in store for them. In a strange way, Eddie almost pitied himself. 

_I died protecting my friends, and they lived because of me._

They all looked so happy in those photos, like the worst was already behind them. Just kids being kids, living the childhood they all deserved. A life without grief, without pain. The way their eyes gleamed with such glee and contentment made Eddie’s heart wrench. After everything, he wasn’t sure if he’d ever be able to feel that way again. 

_I have many regrets but being a Loser was never one of them._

Something Mike said, when they were walking through the town and back to the Townhouse, burst to the forefront of Eddie’s mind. 

_Nothing lasts forever._

Eddie squeezed his eyes shut, stepping away with one hand on his forehead and the other gripped tightly across his chest. For fuck’s sake, he’d give _anything_ to go back to childhood again. To live in a world where all of his friends were alive and happy, a world where they hadn’t forgotten each other. He wanted nothing more than to be able to _talk_ to the Losers again. Even just a single word. Anything for them to hear him again and know that they all had each other. 

Anything to never have to see Richie like this ever again. 

_I must accept the fact that my life has ended and nothing can change that._

“Eddie?” Stanley asked, hopping off the back of the couch. “You okay?” 

Eddie opened his mouth to give the first bullshit response that came to his mind, but a voice from behind them pulled their attention towards the Mike. 

“Bill?” Mike said, a new nervous tone in his voice that wasn’t there before.

“Hm?” Bill looked up, handing the set of photos back to Mike. 

Mike grabbed the paper, running his finger over it as if to dust it off. His finger stopped where Eddie and Stanley stood towards the back of the group, making silly faces towards the camera. “I’m the one who stayed here, brought you all back when It returned,” Mike said, eyes never leaving the photographs in his hand, even as Bill leaned forward to better see him. The look in his eyes had grown dark. “It’s...my fault they’re dead, right?”

“Mike…” Bill choked out, horror in his voice. 

“Shit,” Stanley breathed, shaking his head as he made his way around to the other side of the couch. “I know you can’t hear me, Mike, but you better no-”

“If I never called them,” Mike said, closing his hand around the photos, “They’d still be alive.” 

His words were like a slap to the face. This wasn’t Mike’s fault at all, how the hell could he think that? Eddie quickly mirrored Stanley and made his way to the other side of the couch, fully aware there was nothing he could do to help but still desperate to make his friend stop hurting. In one movement, Eddie placed comforting hands on Mike’s back and arm while Stanley embraced him.

“Mike, you can’t d-d-do that,” Bill begged, reaching out to grab Mike’s shoulder to help steady the man. 

“But it’s true, isn’t it?” Mike countered, finally looking Bill in the eyes. 

“No, Mike,” Stanley said, hugging the man tighter, “Don’t you dare say that.”

“R-remember what Bev said?” Bill asked, the desperation to convince Mike he was wrong growing much more apparent in his voice. “She said she saw us all d-die horrible, painful deaths...if we didn’t b-beat It.” 

“But they still did,” Mike said, eyes glassy. “They both did.” 

Eddie, who’d been quiet since Mike’s revelation, uttered quietly, “I’d rather have died the way I did than die later on not remembering any of you.” He’d told a lot of lies to himself since the quarry, but this was certainly not one of them. Stanley glanced over at him from where he stood next to Mike, a flicker of grief in his eyes. He said nothing, but Eddie could see the clear solidarity in his gaze.

Bill blinked a few times, mouth in a firm line as he tried to shake the thought from his mind. He exhaled a trembling breath that sent a shiver down Eddie’s back. 

“And w-we couldn’t have beat It without them,” Bill argued, voice cracking. “If we didn’t do what we did, if _you_ didn’t do w-what you did, so many more people would have d-d-died, Mikey…” 

“He’s right,” Stanley added somberly, “Listen to him.” 

“Don’t do this to yourself, Mike,” Eddie said under his breath, anger coursing through his body. He fucking _hated_ not being able to do anything. 

Silence followed. 

A minute must have passed before Mike finally nodded at Bill, taking his words very seriously. He wore a contemplative expression, his eyes not focused on anything in particular as he stood. “I need to think,” He declared, placing his book down on a nearby table and walking towards the foyer. “I’m going to go get some groceries, since we’ll be here for a few days.” 

“Alright,” Bill said, still frowning with concern as he watched Mike leave the room. 

Mike stopped in the doorway, hand braced on the wall. He glanced over his shoulder, offering Bill a grief-stricken but appreciative smile. “Thanks, Bill.” 

Bill smiled back. Once Mike was out of the room, Bill let out a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding, running his hands through his hair. Eddie and Stanley remained where they stood, watching with sad eyes as Bill struggled to compose himself. 

It was just them three and Richie before it all started. 

And now only two of them remained. 

Both Stanley and Eddie realized this, the words unspoken yet visible in their expressions. And with Richie locked away in his room, Bill probably felt more alone than ever. It’s not that Ben, Beverly, and Mike were any less of Losers than them. That wasn’t the case at all. But Eddie couldn’t help but picture those days the four of them spent together at school, only to have him and Stanley vanish from the picture like smoke. It must've made those memories so much lonelier. 

“Where are Bev and Ben?” Eddie asked, suddenly realizing he hadn’t seen them all morning. 

“Out back, I think,” Stanley replied, not taking his eyes off Bill. The pair paused their conversation when Bill suddenly took a deep, steadying breath and re-opened his laptop. He pulled it back onto his lap, swinging his legs up onto the couch and stretching them out. Staring at the blank page, Bill made no move to type. 

Eddie gestured over his shoulder as he made his way towards the archway. “I’m gonna go check on them.” 

Nodding as he moved to sit in the chair Mike had been in earlier, Stanley nodded in acknowledgement. “I’m gonna stay here, make sure Bill’s okay.” 

“Okay,” Eddie said, turning the corner and making his way down the hall. It was odd, how they both felt such a need to constantly check on their friends despite their inability to comfort them. Eddie could see two figures out in the yard as he approached, sitting in almost identical spots as Eddie and Stanley the evening prior. Stepping outside, Eddie walked over and found Beverly on the phone with Ben watching her intently. 

“Actually,” Beverly said, her voice much quieter than normal. Vulnerable, even. “I’m out of town at the moment, I probably won’t be back until next week.” 

She paused, listening to the voice on the other end of the phone. Ben stared at her when she shot him a nervous look, smiling as though to give her encouragement. 

“Uh,” Beverly paused, sucking in a deep breath before letting it out slowly, “Yes, both a divorce and restraining order.” 

Beverly’s free hand shook in her lap, but Ben was quick to reach over and take it tightly in his own. He interlocked their fingers before bringing his other hand and placing it on top. Taking another deep breath, Beverly stared down at their hands and nodded, as if to tell Ben she was alright. Eddie watched the way Ben stared at her, how he seemed to study every detail of her face, wanting to commit the image of her warm expression to memory. It was like Ben viewed her as both the most graceful and resilient person he’d ever seen, a pure and steadfast admiration unlike any other. 

A soft smile made its way onto Eddie’s face. 

After learning about the things Beverly’s father would do and say to her, Eddie grew _very_ protective of Beverly from a young age. The other Losers did too, of course, but Beverly and Eddie shared a common trauma that none of the others had ever experienced. They’d talk, sometimes, when they were alone together. About how their parents manipulated them, used them, tricked them...hurt them. It’s something Eddie never spoke about to any of the other Losers, not even Richie during their late-night chats. 

Only Beverly ever understood. 

_Eddie was the only one who noticed the belt marks on Beverly’s arms at dinner on their first night back in Derry. Beverly’s sleeve had slipped up for just the slightest moment before she quickly made to yank it back down. She caught Eddie’s stare when she did, quickly realizing he saw what she’d been trying to hide. Everything came flooding back to him in that moment: Their parents, their secret talks, their trauma._

_Beverly went to use the restroom a few minutes later, and Eddie cornered her before she could return to the table. He made sure they were out of sight from the others when he approached her._

_”Bev…” Eddie sighed as he gingerly reached for her arm, sliding up her sleeve. She let him._

_”It’s nothing,” She replied, averting her eyes._

_”Don’t,” Eddie shot back, voice stern, “Don’t lie to me, Beverly. Did your husband do this to you?”_

_Beverly hesitated, mouth hanging open. ”It won’t happen again, I promise.”_

_A concerned rage washed over Eddie’s face as he gingerly pulled her sleeve back down. He couldn’t stand to look at it for another second. It took everything he had to quell the fury that boiled inside him. “How can you be sure?”_

_Heaving out a deep breath that she’d been holding, Beverly looked back up at Eddie. A sudden flash of assurance appeared in her eyes when she replied. “He...did this after I got the call from Mike, and…” She paused, “I left him.”_

_”...For good?” Eddie asked, reaching up to place his hands on her shoulders._

_Beverly nodded, “Yes.”_

_An intense relief rushed through Eddie. He was about ready to punch a hole in the wall. “That’s good, Bev,” He said softly, pulling her into a tight embrace, “I’m so sorry this happened to you.”_

_Beverly pulled back, eyes glistening. “It’s okay,” She said, getting up on her toes and kissing Eddie on the cheek before pulling him into another embrace. “Thank you, Eddie.”_

Seeing Beverly now, as she worked to cut every tie between her and that awful man for good, Eddie still felt that same protective instinct over her. But he saw no need to use it. Ben was a really great guy, and was just as in love with Beverly as he was when they were children. It was plain to see. Eddie knew there was always something between them, even if it never came to light until now. After living through such a horrific cycle of abuse, Beverly deserved to find happiness with someone like Ben. Someone who truly loved her and respected her and thought the entire world of her. Eddie was genuinely happy for them. 

Standing in silence, Eddie listened intently as Beverly made to schedule multiple future appointments with her newly-hired divorce lawyer. Something felt off in his mind, however, but he couldn't pinpoint exactly what it was. He ignored it at first, only to be faced with a strengthening, uneasy sensation that overcame him completely. Eddie never met Beverly’s husband, nor did he know anything about him other than what Beverly subtly mentioned after their reunion dinner. He was mean, scheming, and always forcing his anger onto Beverly. If anything, he sounded just like…

...her father.

Eddie stared at the pair in front of him, his thoughts abruptly shifting to his mother. He spent a long time thinking about what it was like to grow up under her stern rules, his attention drifting away from Ben and Beverly's conversation. When Eddie was a kid, Beverly would often speak of his mother the same way she spoke about her father. 

A manipulative abuser with an ulterior intent. 

And then Beverly’s husband turned out to be the exact same way. Eddie shook his head, his mind was racing so quickly he almost couldn’t keep up with it. He thought of his mother, and he thought of his wife. They were two people with distinguishing contrasts between them, and yet? Eddie felt the same instinctual feeling of dread as the images of them fussing over him relentlessly burst forth. It was as if his mind couldn't tell the difference between their actions. No, no, that couldn't be right. Things were different with Eddie and Myra. This wasn’t the same thing as Beverly’s situation. 

Eddie...loved Myra.

Yet, at the same time, Eddie couldn’t help but look back at the memories of his life after returning to Derry. He thought back to when he left Myra behind at home without a single explanation of where he was going and how long he’d be gone. How he wasn’t bothered by that. How he never felt obligated to return her texts or calls, and if anything, found them as more of a hindrance. How, when he was dying down in the sewer, blood pouring from his wounds, his final and only thoughts were of the Losers. 

After death, Eddie realized, Myra never even came to his mind until hours after they all returned from the quarry. He was too preoccupied with trying, and failing, to comfort his friends. Too preoccupied with trying to comfort Richie. Even now, in this moment, Eddie found himself wondering if he wanted to return back to his home at all after everyone went their separate ways. Another wave of dread poured from his chest at the notion, mixing with the frightening clarity coming to light in his mind.

What the fuck did that say about him?

Eddie didn’t even realize he was pacing until he caught his foot in a tree root and nearly sent himself tumbling to the grass below. Before returning to Derry, Myra was all Eddie had. He didn't really have that many close friends. Myra was the person he chose to spend the rest of his life with. She cared about him, made sure he was safe...and protected...and medicated. The echo of Eddie's mother's voice swelled in his mind and knocked the air right out of his lungs. He couldn't breathe, he couldn't fucking breathe-

_Take your medication, Eddie-bear._

Fuck. 

_You don’t want to get an infection, do you?_

FUCK. 

Memories of his mother flickered in Eddie’s mind, his heart pounding loudly in his chest. He saw her face, saw her as she scolded him for forgetting his medicine, screamed at him for getting hurt while playing outside, locking him in his room so he couldn't go play with his friends. Only now, that daunting voice could be heard leaving Myra's mouth. Eddie watched in horror as that same invisible beast gripped his heart and threatened to tear it to shreds right then and there.

_FUCK._

Eddie glanced back at Ben, who now had his arm wrapped around Beverly’s shoulders. With his free hand, he tenderly brushed a few stray hairs out of her face and pushed them behind her ear. They laughed at something Ben said, but Eddie couldn’t hear it. His thoughts were too _fucking loud_. Christ, Eddie loved them so much. He loved all the Losers more than anyone else, so much that it almost hurt. But then Eddie moved away. He forgot the Losers, Derry, and everything else from his youth. He'd forgotten what it truly meant to love someone rather than what his poor upbringing led him to believe about love.

So that’s what all this was, then. Eddie finding a way to latch onto his childhood, an instinctive pull towards what felt familiar and secure. Those subconscious emotions from when he was a child morphing into what Eddie thought was real love. Settling for what he had because he never realized there was so much more out there for him to experience. Allowing himself to fall into the same toxic environment he grew up in as a child, now knowing any better. Letting it continue like nothing was wrong because he genuinely believed there was nothing to fix. Embracing the mindset his wife designed for him that sealed off who he truly was, locking away aspects Eddie had forgotten about himself after his long time away from Derry. Never to be retrieved again.

Fuck. 

Eddie had fallen down the same destructive cycle that Beverly had. 

FUCK.

Like she married her father, he married his mother. 

_FUCK, FUCK, FUCK._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Rootless - Marina and the Diamonds
> 
> I'm a cloud drifting by  
> Dripping tears from the sky  
> I'm a snail without a shell  
> A leper with a golden bell  
> I've got nowhere to do  
> I'm a stray cat on the roam  
> Choking on a chicken bone  
> For a home sweet, no sweet home
> 
> For a root, for a leaf, for a branch, for a tree  
> But there's somebody that reminded them of me  
> Running with my roots pulled up  
> Caught me cold so they could cut  
> What there was left of love
> 
> I'm rootless  
> I'm rootless
> 
> Work your fingers to the bone  
> Building castles out of snow  
> I'm a nomad walking on  
> Humming to the same old song  
> Lower case society  
> In touch with no community  
> A kingdom without a king  
> With no sense of belonging
> 
> For a root, for a leaf, for a branch, for a tree  
> But there's somebody that reminded them of me
> 
> Running with my roots pulled up  
> Caught me cold so they could cut  
> What there was left of love  
> I'm rootless  
> I'm rootless
> 
> Running with my roots pulled up  
> So they could cut me free of love
> 
> Running with my roots pulled up  
> Caught me cold so they could cut  
> What there was left of love  
> I'm rootless  
> I'm rootless
> 
> Jagged roots through the snow  
> For a home sweet and no sweet home  
> I've got nowhere to go  
> I'm rootless  
> I'm rootless


	5. Carry You

The afternoon sun beat down on Eddie, leaving no effect on him as he hurled rocks at the wooden fence that lined the property. He harshly snatched them from the grass, adrenaline coursing through him so quickly that his head pounded painfully. Eddie yelled as he lobbed another rock at the fence. Beverly and Ben saw and heard nothing, much to Eddie’s bewilderment, but he knew he was too far gone to try and understand how this whole being dead thing actually fucking worked. Letting loose another agonized shriek, Eddie found himself face-to-face with the fence, blood boiling as he kicked it with all his might again and again. 

That fucking clown ruined _everything_. 

Memories of Eddie’s cherished friendships that had taught him what a true family was? Gone. Any recollection whatsoever of the town he’d grown up in his entire childhood? Erased. A chance to live a truly happy life with his friends at his side and a firm grasp on the concept of genuine love? Obliterated. The ability to look inwards on himself and understand his values and what defined him as a person? Ripped from his grasp by the very person he tied himself to for life. 

Eddie, fists trembling at his sides, paced back and forth across the yard's length. He could feel his throat closing in again as his breathing grew more difficult. On pure instinct, he shoved his hand into his pocket to grab his inhaler. It wasn’t there. 

“SHIT!” Eddie screamed, throwing his hands in the air in an exasperated gesture. Forcing himself to slow down, Eddie stopped pacing and turned to face Beverly and Ben. His tightening fists trembled with pure adrenaline and rage as he stared. The pair now faced each other and sat cross-legged atop the patchy grass. Each of them had one hand resting just beyond their laps, their index fingers interlocked. 

_I have many regrets, but being a Loser was never one of them._

An intense wave of pain surged from Eddie’s chest as he watched them. Their affection was so genuine, and they deserved that more than anyone. But how could Eddie look at them and not also feel a dark twinge of envy? An incomprehensible agony longing to be able to experience the same, while knowing that he never could? 

“Shit…” Eddie repeated, a more vulnerable tone to his voice. He needed to take a walk. Anywhere, _anywhere_ but here. Within moments, Eddie was through the back door and stalking down the hallway. He must’ve made a loud entrance, because Stanley peered around the corner of the front room's archway within seconds. 

“You okay?” Stanley called, stepping out to approach him. 

“Yes,” Eddie snapped as his body continued to shake uncontrollably, his tone a bit harsher than intended. He cringed at sound of his voice, Stanley's surprised jump pulling him to a slightly more lucid state. “...No. I don’t know, Stan.” 

Stanley caught up to Eddie, stopping in front of him. His eyes narrowed as he studied Eddie closely. “Did something happen?” 

Eddie sighed heavily, struggling to stand so still with all of this pent up energy inside him. He started tapping his foot. “I, uh,” Eddie laughed dryly, throwing his hands up in an exaggerated helpless gesture, “Just realized how much my life and my marriage fucking _sucked_ because of that motherfucking clown, and how I’ll never get a chance to fix it!” 

Stanley’s face flashed a quick look of shock before his expression fell with a deepening sorrow. That certainly wasn’t what he was expecting to hear. And on top of that, it was something that Stanley couldn't fix. “Eddie…” He paused. “Let’s sit down and-”

“Nope!” Eddie shot back, shaking his head sharply. His hands moved to his hips as he shifted his weight back and forth restlessly between his feet. “We are definitely _not_ talking about this right now.” 

“Typical,” Stanley scoffed, crossing his arms over his chest. 

“What?” Eddie stilled. 

“That I couldn’t get you to _ever_ shut the fuck up when we were kids,” Stanley said, eyebrows raised with a finger pointed at Eddie, “And now that we're dead I can’t even get you to talk at all.” 

Eddie huffed another dry laugh, a slight smirk growing on his face. He opened his mouth to respond, but the sound of a creaking door from up the stairs cut him off. Like a switch, all that anger boiling inside Eddie suddenly dissipated, instantaneously morphing into worry. It was the first time Richie voluntarily opened his door since locking himself away inside all those hours ago. “Richie,” He breathed, making to bound up the stairs, Stanley trailing close behind him. 

The pair made it halfway up the final stretch of stairs before stopping abruptly. At the end of the hall was Richie, standing outside the first door at the top of the landing. A small rush of relief washed over Eddie when he noticed that Richie finally made the effort to change his clothes. He’d tossed the tattered outfit for a simple pair of black jeans and a baggy, dark green t-shirt. 

“...What is he doing?” Stanley asked quietly from over Eddie’s shoulder. The man’s tone had altered drastically from just moments ago, the change reminding Eddie that this was Stanley’s first time really seeing Richie since they were kids aside from his short encounter at the Temple. While Richie certainly looked better than he had yesterday, it was obvious he had a very, very rough night. 

“That’s my room,” Eddie answered gravely, eyes not leaving Richie. His response was followed by a long bout of silence as the pair waited for Richie to act first. Ten minutes must’ve passed before the man finally lifted a weak hand and swung open the door. Richie ventured inside, feet shuffling on the floor. The sound of muffled scuffs from his socks against the wooden floor bounced around the room. His movements were so reserved and withdrawn, like he was scared that if he touched anything it would break. 

Eddie fidgeted with his hands nervously as he felt the familiar thumps in his chest grow stronger. He and Stanley stood beneath the door frame, saying nothing as they watched Richie’s gaze drift from the dressers, to the untouched suitcases in the corner of the room, to the bed, and finally stopping at the bathroom-

A small gasp escaped Richie’s mouth. He froze where he stood, eyes growing wide as his breathing quickly became erratic. 

Eddie surged forward without hesitation, placing a hand on Richie’s upper arm as he attempted to follow his friend’s gaze. It didn’t take him long to find what set Richie off. There, in small streaks on the bathroom floor, was Eddie’s dried blood from when Bowers attacked him. Nobody had been in there since the ordeal. Eddie recalled how quickly Beverly and Ben tended to Eddie’s wound before they all left for the library together. They were forced to leave the mess behind, knowing they didn't have time to tend to it then. The blood dried and caked the floor in streaks of haunting dark reds and browns. 

Stanley walked over, quickly spotting the starkly-colored stains against the white tile. His face paled a bit as he looked to Eddie for answers. 

“Long story,” Eddie offered, more focused on Richie than re-telling the event. Instead, he chose to quickly point to the scar on his cheek and reply with a quick, “Bowers.” 

“Shit, Bowers?” Stanley breathed, a shocked disgust on his face as he glanced back-and-forth between the blood stains and Eddie’s face. “You’d think after almost thirty years that asshole would find something better to do with his tim-”

“Fuck,” Richie cursed, pulling the others’ attention back to him. The man took a few steps backwards as he struggled to tear his eyes from the blood on the floor. Raising his arms in front of him, Richie slowly rotated his trembling hands back and forth while opening and closing his fingers. 

Eddie was in front of him in an instant, trying to use his body to block Richie’s view of the blood. He knew it was pointless, if anything he was far _too_ aware of that fact, but he couldn’t just stand by and watch Richie suffer like this. Richie started to frantically wipe his hands together, as if something was on them and he was trying desperately to get it off. Eyes squeezed tightly shut, he hurriedly wiped his hands on his arms, his abdomen, his thighs. His entire body folded in on itself, cringing forwards. 

“Rich,” Eddie said, his eyes wide as he reached up and tried to pull the man’s arms down and hold them in place. He knew what Richie was seeing because Eddie saw it too. Flashes from the fight flooded his thoughts like a heavy fog. Visions of Eddie getting pierced, the claw ripping through his skin, rough splatters of his blood shooting in all directions when the claw broke through his ventral side. Eddie's blood was everywhere. It was on Richie's chest, in his hair, smeared across his glasses, in his mouth... “Richie, stop!” 

Stanley stared in stunned silence, eyes glassy, as he watched Richie in such a weak and exposed state. Minutes passed before Richie eventually did stop. His hands grew still and he slowly wrapped them both tightly across his chest. As much as Eddie wanted to believe that it was his own doing, he had to remind himself of the impossibility. 

“Nope, no,” Richie breathed, eyebrows raised and eyes shut as he spoke to himself, “Don’t fucking cry again, Tozier, don’t you fucking dare-” 

He couldn’t even make it through his own threat before breaking. In seconds, fresh tears rolled down Richie’s face, the man exhaling in defeat. “Dammit,” he choked, bringing a hand up to remove his glasses. With the other, he wiped his eyes, sniffing a few times. “Dammit…” 

Eddie and Stanley stood quietly, incapable of aid as the sound of Richie’s soft cries filled the deathly quiet room. Richie turned, facing the bed and leaning forward to place both hands on the mattress. He took a few deep breaths, held each in for a moment, and slowly exhaled them shakily. 

“There you go, Rich,” Eddie whispered as he stepped forward again, relieved. The original hand he’d placed on Richie’s back now found the same spot. Eddie rubbed his hand back and forth at a slow, steady pace. 

“I...” Stanley started, one arm across his chest and the other propped so that his fist partially concealed his mouth, “I’ve never seen him like this.” 

“Like what?” Eddie asked, glanced at Stanley over his shoulder. 

“So...vulnerable,” Stanley replied with a saddened gaze locked on Richie. He looked like a different man than the one the others knew growing up. Eddie knew that because he felt exactly the same. He didn't think _anyone_ had ever seen this side of Richie before, not to this extent. If anyone did, it would've been Stanley. But that clearly wasn't the case. "I've never seen him with his guard completely down."

The sound of the front door opening downstairs, followed by the sound of voices, suddenly echoed up the stairwell. Stanley and Eddie shared a look, exchanging a quick unspoken conversation. A few moments of silence passed before Stanley made his way towards the door. He stepped out into the hall before taking one final, pitiful glance back at the pair. Eddie watched him go, not moving from where he stood by Richie.

From what muffled sounds Eddie managed to pick up from below, it sounded like Mike had returned with groceries and was making his way towards the kitchen. Eddie, fixated on listening to the other Losers’ conversation downstairs, almost missed when Richie abruptly moved from his frozen state and stalked across the room. Eddie followed, flustered as he watched Richie heave one of Eddie's over-packed suitcases onto the end of the bed. Richie ran his hands over the material, searching the edges for a zipper. Gripping the metal latch, he unzipped the bottom compartment and smoothly tossed it open. Eddie stepped up next to Richie, frowning over his open suitcase. 

The flipped portions landed on the bed with a soft thud to reveal a neatly-packed row of shirts and pants. Richie lifted a hesitant hand, holding it just above the first shirt in the row. Time slowing down, he calmly let his fingers brush over the fabric, flowing from shirt to shirt. Richie made it almost all the way across the suitcase until his hand suddenly stopped on top of one of Eddie’s larger grey zip-up sweatshirts. 

Eddie stared, speechless, as Richie grabbed the sweatshirt and lifted it out of the suitcase with great care. He held it up in the air, letting it unfold on its own. Eddie remembered that one. It was always a little big on him, but still one of his favorites. Without pause, Richie slipped the sweatshirt over his t-shirt and zipped it up about two-thirds of the way. Eddie noticed it was a little tight under the arms, and the sleeves could have used a few more inches, but Richie didn’t seem to mind at all. In the same instant, Richie leaned upwards, angling his face towards his shoulder. Richie inhaled slowly, nose pressed against the sweatshirt, taking in the faint smell of Eddie. As if he was trying to hold on to the last few bits of his friend that he had left. 

Eddie felt his heart shatter at the gesture. 

He took a step back as Richie reached to close the suitcase, frown growing when  
Richie’s hand froze with the top portion halfway-closed. Richie let it fall open again, eyes widening. He stared at something in the suitcase, taking a few moments to process it before reaching it and grabbing it. 

Richie went to pull it out, unphased by the multiple shirts that partially came out with it. Eddie instinctively rolled his eyes as he watched the shirts fall back into the suitcase unfolded. But the fanny pack in Richie’s hands made him forget all about the neglected shirts. Eddie huffed an amused breath as he moved back to his original spot next to Richie. “Forgot I packed that.” 

Richie let out a quiet laugh at his side, the sound making Eddie’s heart flutter. He thought he'd never hear that sweet, relieving sound again. “Jesus, Eds,” Richie sighed, face scrunching as he softly laughed again, “You fucking nerd.” 

Eddie chuckled tiredly in response. Something swelled in his chest as he relished this moment, as brief as it was. It was like they were kids again, shooting playful banter back and forth at each other. Like Richie could actually see him again, and could actually hear him. His vision blurred with tears at the sound of Richie’s laugh. “Don’t call me Eds, dipshit,” Eddie shot back, a single tear spilling from his eye. 

“You motherfucking dork...” Richie choked, rolling his eyes at himself when he realized he’d slipped past the edge again. He clutched the pack tightly to his chest as he pushed the suitcase aside on the bed, making room for himself before laying down. 

More tears now spilling from his own eyes, Eddie bound over towards the bed. It was as if Richie just had the same realization Eddie had, desperately wishing he could talk to Eddie. Even if for just the shortest moment. To make him laugh one last time. Eddie sank down on the edge of the bed with Richie facing him. Richie flung his glasses off as let his weight fall onto Eddie’s pillow, placing the fanny pack in front of him on the bed. 

Eddie’s anger from his dreadful realization outside and his deep concern for Richie entangled themselves in his thoughts, trapped in a fierce battle for power. It made his head throb, provoking a dizzying sensation that left him very disoriented. Just when Eddie thought Richie had started to improve, he came crashing down to where he was before. Tired of feeling helpless, yet unable to halt his efforts, Eddie leaned forward and placed a hand on Richie’s shoulder. The man was shaking again, so Eddie pressed harder. 

Tears fell from Richie’s eyes, but they were silent. He didn’t cry out, or weep like he had before. This time Richie just laid there, eyes fixated on the wall ahead of him, sucking in shuddering breaths in and heaving them out. It was like he was paralyzed. 

But even so, Eddie didn’t stop his efforts to calm Richie down. 

Whatever he did, Eddie forced himself _not_ to think about what would have happened if he and Stanley lived. What _could_ have happened. He forced himself _not_ to wonder what his life would have been like if he’d never forgotten the Losers. If he’d never forgotten Richie. He forced himself _not_ to picture a world in which that damn clown never existed. Where kids could be kids and he himself could discover true happiness. 

The clown’s laughter echoed in Eddie’s head, taunting him. 

But nothing lasts forever right? Tough luck. Fuck Derry, fuck the clown, fuck his stolen memories, fuck the shitty life that'd been thrust upon him so unfairly. 

Fuck it all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Carry You - Novo Amor
> 
> Torn down, full of aching  
> Somehow our youth would take the blame  
> Worn out, the way we let it stay
> 
> Taught how to celebrate it  
> All out, I'd replicate your pain  
> Climb down, if only for a taste
> 
> Hallowed, but hesitated  
> Shallow, but full in all your veins  
> Shadowed by every other weight
> 
> Hollow, a doubt can make it  
> Borrowed a love that never came  
> Followed in every other shade
> 
> Let it lead your love away  
> I never strayed  
> Let it bury you away  
> In all your blame, in all your pain  
> I will carry you always
> 
> Let it lead your love away  
> I never strayed  
> Let it bury you away
> 
> Fade me away, I won't ever be the same  
> Fade me away, I won't ever be the same  
> Fade me away, I won't ever be the same


	6. Shooting the Moon

Evening rays of sun found their way through the window, flooding the room with a faint golden glow. Eddie lost himself in their sheen, caught in a trance until a knock on the hallway door pulled him back to the present. Eddie forced himself to reascend the abyss in his mind and towards the light of day. The void he’d entered, a place where all lights are snuffed out, was timeless. Relativity did not exist there, and he was free to wander to the deepest cusps of his mind, dancing the line between imagination and reality. 

He wasn’t sure how long he’d been down there. Mind still in a slight haze, Eddie shifted on the bed and glanced at Richie. The man hadn’t moved from where he laid, his hand still clutched tightly around Eddie’s fanny pack. A wave of sadness crashed within Eddie, sending aftershocks of the impact tumbling down his limbs. 

“Richie?” A muffled voice could be heard from the other side of the door. The knocking ensued, growing louder as it dragged on. 

Richie didn’t answer. 

“Are y-you in there?” The voice asked, the door creaking on its hinges as it slowly swung open. In the doorway stood Bill, hands now shoved into the pockets of his freshly-washed jeans. His head hung low as his eyes hesitantly scanned the room before landing on the bed that held Richie's motionless form. 

A wild mix of emotions crossed Bill’s face all at once, Eddie noting the similarity between his, Beverly’s and Stanley's reactions to seeing Richie so lost to the darkness encompassing his mind. Eddie was certain he looked just the same as them, completely overtaken by the painful shock of seeing Richie in such unfamiliar distress. Bill, however, was quick to cover it up with a fixed look of concern. “There you are,” He said, voice tight as he tried his best to offered a small smile. 

Eddie stood from the bed when Bill made for the spot he'd been sitting in, taking a step back and leaning against the nightstand. When they crossed paths, Eddie could have sworn he saw the glimmer of tears in Bill’s eyes when the golden sun rays struck them. He stood in pained silence as Bill sat down, once again kicking himself over not being able to help Richie like the others could. 

“Hey, Richie,” Bill muttered, taking in the sight before him. He hadn’t seen Richie at all since their walk back from the quarry, with Richie having locked himself away upstairs to avoid seeing the others. Eddie closely studied Bill’s face as his friend eyed the open suitcase on the bed, Richie’s change of clothes that most certainly did not belong to him, and the item clutched in Richie’s hand on the bed. Bill lost his composure for the second time, grief striking his face for the shortest moment before he pulled himself together. 

Richie looked up at Bill and squinted his eyes, straining them to see the man beside him. He reached over and fumbled for for his glasses before lazily slipping them onto his face. “Hey,” Richie mumbled, forcing himself up into an upright cross-legged position. It took him far more effort to do so than it should've, and Eddie wasn't the only one to notice.

And yet, Bill mustered the best smile he could. He glanced down at the fanny pack on the bed, reaching out to grab it. Running a thumb over the front, Bill chuckled and shook his head. “Some things n-never change, huh?” 

“I found it in his suitcase,” Richie said flatly, picking up the pack and shaking it gently in his hand. Muffled sounds of pills clattering in their bottles could be heard. Richie fidgeted his hands in his lap after dropping the pack back down, twisting and pulling at his fingers as he spoke, “I’m pretty sure he raided the entire pharmacy while he was there. ”

Bill carefully grabbed the pack, turning it in his hands like it was a long lost treasure. He silently unzipped it, peering inside at its many contents. Eddie inched forward, spectating from over Bill’s shoulder as he watched the man rummage through a spare inhaler, bandages, antiseptics, and a few bottles of pills. “Well,” Bill said, unable to prove Richie wrong, “Eddie was always the prepared one.” 

Eddie caught Richie flinch at the sound of his name spoken aloud, but he knew Richie’s mannerisms far more intricately than the other Losers did. He was almost certain Bill didn't pick up on that one. 

“Now that’s the understatement of the year, Billiam,” Richie replied, eyebrows raised. Something in his voice started to change, but Eddie didn’t think Bill noticed that either. “Have you _seen_ this shit? Who the fuck carries around an _entire_ box of band-aids with them at all times?”

Bill chuckled, shoulders relaxing. “Someone w-w-with idiot friends.” 

Richie huffed a breath through his nose, shaking his head. It was the closest he’d come to laughing since he was unknowingly alone with Eddie. But there was still something off about it, like it was empty. “Yeah,” He agreed, “The stupidest.” 

“R-r-remember when Eddie used to keep a pair of bifocals in here?” Bill asked as he sifted through the pack again, searching to see if they’d been replaced. 

Richie flinched again. 

“He kept his bifocals in his second fanny pack, not this one,” Richie answered with his gaze angled down and his voice suddenly much quieter. Something about his eyes had become more aware in that moment, like a haze had lifted from his mind. Richie's posture suddenly improved as well, his back straightening and shoulders relaxing. Eddie gaped at him from behind Bill, shocked at how Richie could recall such a small detail that even he himself could barely remember. 

“Yeah, that’s right,” Bill said, quirking an eyebrow. His expression softened as he glanced back up at Richie. When silence fell again, Bill abandoned the fanny pack on top of the open suitcase, turning his focus back to Richie. “Richie?” 

“What?” Richie said, looking back up to meet Bill’s eyes. 

“Are y-y-you doing okay?” Bill questioned, his tone growing more serious. It matched the worried expression that had slowly started to grow on his face. 

“Define okay,” Richie replied in the lightest tone without not missing a beat, “Cause I think I caught a cold from swimming in the quarry yesterday-” 

“Beep beep, Richie,” Bill sighed. 

Eddie gawked at the man on the bed, utterly bewildered at the sudden switch in Richie’s character. He couldn't comprehend how this was the same man who sobbed non-stop all afternoon, unable to stop even when he tried on multiple occasions. It was like Richie morphed into a completely different person on command, as if he hadn’t just experienced some of the worst trauma he’ll probably ever face in his life. 

What the hell are you doing, Rich? 

Eddie watched the pair in stunned silence. He could tell Bill knew Richie was out-of-sorts when he entered the room from how the man held himself and how lifeless his voice was. But when Bill asked him to open up, Richie hit the switch...immediately cutting himself off, refusing to open up directly, ignoring the pain that surely swelled in his heart, masking it all with a goddamn joke. 

Fucking hell, Richie. 

“I’m fine, Bill,” Richie shot back, a look on his face daring Bill to ask again. Eddie almost immediately noticed how Richie suddenly put more effort into maintaining eye contact with Bill. 

“Richie, you haven’t come downstairs once s-since we got back,” Bill countered, shaking his head. A new desperation flooded his eyes as he tried to get through to Richie. He knew the man was hiding something. “You’ve kept y-yourself locked up all day and night, and I just found you in...in _here_. I don’t think that qualifies as f-f-fine.” 

“Okay, okay,” Richie sighed loudly, struggling to maintain his facade. Eddie saw right through it. “I _will_ be fine, alright? I just need...some time.”

“Locked away upstairs? All b-by yourself?” Bill pushed. 

“Yes,” Richie answered plainly, his tone growing bitter. 

“F-for fuck’s sake, R-r-richie, why do you think you need to do this alone?” Bill asked, louder this time, his expression begging Richie to let him in. To let him help. Anguished twisted Eddie's heart at the site as he so desperately wished to be in Bill's shoes. To have Richie hear him. 

“Listen to him, Rich,” Eddie breathed with a shake of his head. Richie could actually _see_ and _hear_ Bill sitting beside him, and Eddie wasn’t about to let Richie refuse the man's counsel. “Please listen.” 

Richie stared at Bill, stunned, his facade breaking with a flash of surprise. He paused, contemplating something Eddie could see was very serious before speaking again. A few seconds passed and Eddie watched the thought dissipate from his eyes, untouched. “Bill...you don’t understand-” 

“Don’t understand?” Bill gaped back at him, hurt. A tear fell from his eye and streaked down his face. “Eddie was _our_ friend, too. And so was S-s-stan. _We’re_ hurting, too, Richie. But you know w-what? We’re still just Losers, and Losers stick together.” 

Richie’s eyes fell shut in regret as he realized how his words may have sounded. “Bill-”

“You were all there for me when I lost G-georgie,” Bill muttered as another tear fell, his voice low. “So why w-won’t you let us be here for y-you now?” 

Running a slow hand through his hair, Richie sucked in a deep breath through his nose. He held it for a good five seconds before calmly releasing out his mouth. “Okay,” Richie breathed, shrugging in defeat, “Okay.” 

Eddie let out a cry of relief. 

Good job, Rich. 

Bill reached out, placing a firm hand on Richie’s shoulder. His expression held every word he needed to say. An apology for snapping at him, a thank you for listening to him, and a continued plea for him to open up. Richie acknowledged the gesture with a small nod. “C-come on,” Bill said, standing up from the bed and offering a hand to Richie. “Mike is downstairs making dinner f-for all of us, it’s almost r-ready.” 

Richie stared at Bill’s open hand. “I’m not hungry.” 

“Richie you h-haven’t eaten in two days,” Bill countered. When he was met with a shrug and another distant stare, he snatched Richie’s hand and pulled him off the bed. “Just come d-downstairs, at least, alright?” 

“Doesn’t look like I have much of a choice,” Richie muttered under his breath, shoving his free hand in the pocket of Eddie’s sweatshirt as Bill pulled him towards the door. 

“N-n-none at all,” Bill replied, the pair now making their way down the hall with Eddie trailing close behind them. They walked in silence, Bill leading the way towards the dining room. He didn’t let go of Richie’s hand until they passed through the last doorway, just to make sure Richie wouldn’t wander back upstairs. 

Entering the room behind them, Eddie spotted Beverly and Ben sitting adjacent to each other at the dining table. Stanley stood silently, leaning against the archway to the room just a few feet away. Mike bounded in just moments later carrying a large dish and placing it in the center of the table. He moved to sit next to Ben once his hands were free. 

“Hey, Richie,” Ben smiled warmly, his voice gentle. 

“Richie!” Mike scooted his chair in, wearing a similar expression, “It’s good to see you.” 

“Uh, hi,” Richie uttered, color draining rapidly from his face. He tried his best to shoot a mediocre half-smile back at the others, pausing when he caught Beverly’s eyes. She stared at him, eyes serious, as she reached out and patted the empty seat next to her. Richie walked over, sliding into the chair with both of his hands now in the pockets of Eddie’s sweatshirt. Bill walked around and took the open seat next to Mike, leaving two empty seats between himself and Richie. The realization struck Eddie like a whiplash as Stanley joined him at his side.

“They’re for us,” Stanley said with a somber confirmation, gesturing towards the two empty chairs.

All seven Losers were now together in the same room for the first time in nearly three decades, but only Eddie and Stanley even aware of the fact. Eddie turned to Stanley in astonishment and was met with an understanding stare. Eddie nodded, feeling a strange sense of both comfort and remorse. Stanley was always a reserved person, but Eddie could tell he felt the same. Together, they joined the group at the table, Eddie taking the empty seat by Richie and Stanley sitting by Bill. Eddie’s eyes shifted from one Loser to the next, his gaze eventually landing on Beverly.

A small smile grew on her face, her arm extending so she could give Richie a comforting pat on the shoulder. Her fingers hesitated on the fabric, running it between her index finger and thumb. Perplexed, Beverly could tell the shirt wasn’t Richie’s size. Richie’s gaze drifted to where her hand stopped, his eyes shooting back up to Beverly as his mouth fell slightly ajar. Before he could conjure the words to explain, Beverly gave his arm a firm, reassuring squeeze, her smile waning. 

“Is that yours?” Stanley asked, leaning forward slightly to catch a glimpse of Richie's new shirt. “The hoodie?” 

Eddie nodded, following Stanley’s gaze and eyeing the snug sweatshirt.

“Huh,” Stanley huffed, shooting Richie a quizzical stare. 

Eddie turned back to face Stanley. The man beside him wore an intense stare pointed at Richie, which slowly began to morph into an amused smirk. “...What?” Eddie asked, cocking his head slightly. 

“Hm? Oh,” Stanley blinked, as if snapping out of a trance. “I was just hoping that maybe he finally outgrew his hideous Hawaiian shirt phase.” 

Eddie paused, wondering what Stanley was so distracted by, but shrugged it off with a chuckle. “I don’t think that’s possible.” 

“A guy can dream, Eddie,” Stanley replied, leaning back in his chair. The other’s voices soon cut them off, drawing the pair back to the conversation around the table. 

“This looks great, Mike,” Beverly smiled, passing the casserole dish to Ben after filling her plate. 

“Yeah,” Bill said, relaxing in his seat, “Thanks, Mike.” 

“I was happy to do it,” Mike smiled back, patiently waiting for everyone else to take some food before finally filling his own plate. “I haven’t taken the time to cook a real dinner in...well, I don’t even remember how long.” 

Eddie could see the longing in Mike’s eyes, the desperation to help the others in any way he could. He recalled Mike's previous conversation with Bill and the words he'd spoken with such agony. Despite everything he'd done, Mike blamed himself for Eddie's and Stanley's deaths. He must've felt so terrible for bringing such pain to the Loser's and his deceased friends' families. Eddie could see the blatant hope in Mike's eyes that whatever he was doing was enough. 

Join the club, dude. 

“We should make a toast,” Beverly said softly, wrapping her hand around her glass. 

“Wait,” Ben said, glancing around at the others, his eyes landing on the two empty chairs across from him. “I think we should say something first.” 

Everyone’s gaze followed Ben’s, and soon the entire table was staring at Eddie and Stanley. Eddie shifted uncomfortably in his seat, his original pleads for anyone to acknowledge him swiftly vanishing. This isn't what he meant. Mike cleared his throat, however, and pulled everyone's attention to him. “Twenty seven years ago we made an oath. A promise that if It ever came back...then we would too. And to keep that promise, we put everything we loved and cared about at risk. We lost a part of our family this week.” 

A pause. Beverly reached up to rub at the corner of her eye, Ben quick to place a steadying hand on her shoulder. 

“They made the ultimate sacrifice,” Mike continued, voice cracking a bit, “Not only were our lives saved, but the lives of every future generation of Derry as well. A day won’t go by where I won’t think about them. And together, we will make sure that they’re always remembered for who they were. Friends, and family.” 

“And Losers,” Ben added with a somber smile, blinking his own tears away. 

“And Losers,” Mike repeated, nodding as his eyes fell shut. He released a slow and steady breath before opening them again. 

“T-to Stan,” Bill stuttered, raising his glass. Mike followed suit, quickly shadowed by Beverly and Ben. They hesitated, all slowly turning to face Richie as they waited for him. 

Eddie glanced at Richie, finding the man with his stare set on the table in front of him. His jaw was tight, his breathing quick and shallow. Time seemed to slow as he shakily reached for his glass. He weakly hoisted it up to join the others, sucking in a deep breath before forcing out a quiet response, “...To Eddie.” 

The Losers gently clinked their glasses together before reaching over and doing the same to the untouched glasses at Stanley and Eddie’s seats. They all took a drink, save for Eddie and Stanley, before starting their meal. Anguish struck Eddie’s heart at Mike’s sincere words. The amount of love Eddie had for these people, the same group he remembered existed less than a week ago, nearly overwhelmed him. It tore Eddie apart to watch their lives go on while he was trapped in this frozen state forever, the notion ravaging him from the inside-out and feeling like knives against flesh.

Eddie turned to face Stanley, quickly caught off-guard when he spotted a steady flow of silent tears rolling down Stanley’s cheeks. He quickly turned in his chair, swinging his legs around the edge to face his friend. Stanley barely caught wind of Eddie’s movements before he was wrapped in a tight embrace. He jumped, tensing at first, but Eddie held firm and refused to let go until after Stanley finally relaxed in his arms. And, to Eddie’s surprise, Stanley hugged him back. “I’ll probably sound like a major asshole for saying this, but...” Stanley sniffed into Eddie’s shoulder, “I’m really happy you’re...here.” 

Eddie chuckled, pulling back to look at Stanley. “Were you gonna say ‘dead’?” 

“Your words, Kaspbrak, not mine,” Stanley replied with a tear-ridden smirk, rubbing his eyes with a fist. He reached over and patted Eddie on the shoulder. Eddie and Stanley fell in and out of conversation as the dinner stretched on. The food was delicious, according to the others, their endless compliments eliciting a heartfelt smile from Mike. Eddie stared at their plates, frowning, before turning back to Stanley. 

“Can we eat food if we’re dead?” He asked, genuinely curious. 

“No,” Stanley replied dismally, his composure now completely regained after his short and unexpected slip during the toast, “I tried.” 

“That’s some serious bullshit,” Eddie muttered, crossing his arms and leaning back into his seat. 

The mood lightened as everyone finished eating, feeling rejuvenated. The group’s growing energy rubbed off on Eddie and Stanley, who found themselves laughing as Bill told them about his struggles to write an ending for his book. The others were skeptical when he’d said he finally finished it, but when Bill indulged further it actually didn't sound too terrible. 

As the others conversed, Eddie found himself glancing over towards Richie every so often, keeping his friend's movements visible in the corner of his eye. Richie's expression remained stoic, indifferent to the jokes the others made in an attempt to elicit a laugh from him, or even just a smile. Eddie caught the concerned glances between the other Losers and shared an identical one with Stanley. 

“He came downstairs,” Stanley offered, shrugging. “It’s a start.”

Richie kept to himself a majority of the time. His leg bounced at a quick pace under the table as he fidgeted with his napkin in his lap. He never initiated any conversations himself, and only answered any questions directed at him with short, concise replies. The conversation shifted from talk of Bill’s book, to Mike’s ambition to drive down to Florida and settle down, to Ben and Beverly’s plan to return back to one of houses Ben owned just outside Chicago. The atmosphere in the room shifted a bit, however, when Beverly timidly informed the others of her divorce. Silence followed her declaration, but it was quickly filled with words of encouragement and support from the other Losers. 

Eddie’s blood still boiled at the thought of anyone hurting Beverly like that, but his anger was quelled knowing she’ll be far away from Manhattan and that asshole and safe with Ben. Christ, Eddie still couldn't believe how close he'd been living to Beverly all that time without even knowing it. Although he tried not to think about it, he sometimes found himself wondering just how many times they may have passed each other on the street without batting an eye. He grew nauseous at the thought. 

Eddie felt Stanley’s eyes on him as Beverly spoke of her divorce. That’s when Eddie remembered what he said to Stanley earlier that day regarding his own marriage. He sunk into his seat slightly, internally sighing with relief when Stanley never brought it up. The topic seemed to finally pull Richie from his dazed state, his eyes opening a bit wider as his posture improved in his chair. Richie had always been close with Beverly just as Eddie once was, and Eddie was so grateful Richie had her. Even if Richie wasn’t ready to talk yet, he felt security in knowing Beverly and the other Losers would be there to support Richie when he was ready. 

Because Eddie couldn’t do it himself. 

A small frown formed on Richie’s face as he listened to Beverly speak about her phone call with her new divorce lawyer and their plans to apply for a restraining order against her ex. Eddie could see Richie’s fists clenching with frustration on the table. But as Beverly’s talk shifted to moving out of her old home and living with Ben for the time being, Richie’s grip relaxed again. 

“I’m happy for you, Bevvie,” Richie said quietly, mustering the best smile he could. All faces turned to look at him, each one wearing an expression of pleasant surprise. This was the first Richie voluntarily spoke all evening, and the first time he said something other than just a simple yes or no as a response. 

Beverly stopped short, a smile of relief overcoming her face. “Thanks, Richie.” 

“If you, uh, need me to kick that asshole’s face in,” Richie smiled again, and Eddie thought this one actually looked semi-genuine, “Just give me a call.” 

The other Losers laughed, Stanley and Eddie both sharing a cautiously-hopeful look. A sudden ring cut through the noise, its tone muffled through someone’s pocket. 

“Shit,” Richie cursed, leaning to the side to slide his phone out of his back pocket. Eddie barely caught the number on the screen before Richie hung up and shoved the device back into his pocket without bothering to answer. This wasn’t the first time that number had called, Eddie recognized it. “Sorry,” Richie added, after noticing all eyes on him again. 

“Who w-w-was that? Everything okay?” Bill asked, leaning forward to lean his folded arms against the table. 

Richie sighed, rubbing the bridge of his nose and evading the other’s stares. He shifted awkwardly in his seat. It was obvious to Eddie how uncomfortable the man was being thrust into the spotlight so abruptly. “Just my manager,” Richie mumbled, “He’s been calling a lot.” 

“Have you talked to him since, uh…” Mike hesitant on how to phrase the rest of his question. 

“Since I spazzed out onstage in front of over a thousand people and seemingly vanished off the face of the planet? No.” Richie answered, voice empty despite his attempt at humor. He stared down at something on the table rather than at the others. 

“He _what?_?” Stanley exclaimed, shooting a questioning look at Eddie. 

“The day Mike called all of us,” Eddie explained, not taking his eyes off Richie, “He got ahold of Richie just minutes before he had to go onstage. Richie didn’t elaborate, but...it didn’t sound pretty.” 

“Oh,” Stanley breathed, his eyes falling at the comment. 

“You know,” Ben said from across the table, “He’s probably just worried about you, Richie. I would be too, given the circumstances.” 

“Yeah,” Richie scoffed dryly, “Or he’s just worried about my dates coming up in Reno.” 

Eddie frowned at the sudden tightness in Richie’s voice. He could feel the tension building from his seat. 

“I can talk to him for you, if you want,” Beverly offered, her desire to help her friend very apparent.

“No, no,” Richie replied quickly, shaking his head. He fumbled with his napkin again in his lap. “I’ll text him...at some point.” 

“It really wouldn’t be a problem,” Beverly carefully pushed. 

“Yeah, no,” Richie said, voice tighter. Eddie swore he could see Richie’s hands starting to shake where they sat in tight fists out of view. “Don’t worry about it-” 

“Are you sure, Richie?” Beverly asked on final time, disappointment on her face. “We could call together and just see if we can postpone some of your dat-”

Oh, shit-

“And what the fuck are you gonna tell them, Bev?!” Richie snapped, throwing his napkin to the floor. His eyes widened, a bizarre smile growing on his face that made him look near-hysterical. “Oh hey,” Richie continued, holding a hand up to his ear to mimic a phone, “Sorry, Richie can’t come to the phone right now, he just fought a demon space clown and watched his best friend get killed right in front of him. He needs more time to suppress his trauma before you throw him back in front of a live audience again!” 

Silence. 

A complete, haunting silence that shook Eddie to his core. 

“Rich…” Eddie breathed frightfully, staring at the man beside him with horror. It was happening again, just like last time. Richie would start to show any sign of improvement, and then he tumble right back down to where he was before. Only this time seemed so much worse, especially when Eddie caught the look of hurt that flashed across Beverly’s face. 

“What?” Richie asked, eyes darting between the Loser’s faces, “Too dark? Cause I can go back to just pretendi-”

“Beep beep, Richie!” Beverly snapped firmly, disbelief in her glassy eyes. 

Richie froze immediately upon seeing Beverly’s face, his crazed expression faltering. The familiar, empty gaze he’d worn for most of the dinner made its return as his eyes fell. He waited, unmoving in his seat, for somebody else to speak. Eddie wasn’t sure how long the silence lasted, too preoccupied with watching the pain flooding Richie’s eyes. 

“Okay,” Bill said, finally breaking the silence, “Let’s...f-f-forget about calling your manager. That c-can wait.” 

Richie didn’t move. 

“Richie,” Ben said, lowering his head slightly to try and look Richie in the eyes, “Don’t worry about him right now. You should just focus on yourself, okay? That’s why we’re here...to help support each other.” 

Eddie could feel Richie’s breathing growing more erratic next to him. He shifted in his seat again. 

“It’s been hard for all of us,” Mike added, glancing at the others nervously, “But this isn’t something you should have to deal with alone.” 

Richie visibly flinched and squeezed his eyes shut at that one, shaking his head back and forth. It appeared as though he was desperately holding something in, like it took every ounce of his willpower not to lash out again. “Richie, honey,” Beverly whispered, finally able to get Richie to look up and meet her gaze. “We want to help you.” 

“Bev-” Richie started. Beverly didn’t let him finish.

“I can’t _stand_ seeing you like this,” She added, voice unwavering and heart visibly set on getting through to her friend. “Please, just tell us what we can do.” 

Eddie started to grow restless, standing from his chair and pacing behind his seat. He knew this wasn’t going anywhere. He knew they were just going to get Richie worked up again. He knew better than anyone that Richie would open up when he was ready. Why didn’t the others see that? 

“It’ll, uh…” Richie started, Eddie halting in his tracks at the way his voice cracked. “It’ll go away, after a while. It always does...I just have to stop-” He paused, raising his hand to vaguely gesture towards his head while squeezing his eyes shut, “- _seeing_ it, and I’ll be fine.” 

A pause. 

“...Seeing it?” Beverly repeated with a frown. 

“ _Him_ , Bev,” Richie forced out, rocking once in his seat with his eyes still shut, “Seeing him-” He stopped again, using his hand to gesture towards his abdomen. It was suddenly all too clear what Richie was trying to describe: Eddie, kneeling above him in the cavern, pierced through the torso by the clown’s ragged claw. 

Eddie’s hand unconsciously drifted towards his stomach, hand resting right where his scar laid strewn across his body under his shirt. Pain rocked through him at the memory, the feeling of flesh tearing and bones snapping. A hand on his back, which could have only been Stanley’s hand, kept him from falling too deep into the torturous memory. 

“Oh Richie,” Beverly breathed, making to reach out towards Richie’s. Ben’s gentle hand on her wrist stopped her, and she was met with a slight shake of his head. She slowly sank back into her chair, defeated. At the sight of Beverly wiping a tear from her eyes, Richie leaned forward and propped his forehead against both of his hands, staring down at the table. His trembling hands were obvious to the others now, even to those who sat furthest away from him at the table. But only Eddie could see him fighting against the tears that threatened to spill at any given moment. 

“Talking about it will help, Richie,” Mike said, taken aback at the sight of his friend so shaken. Pain laced his own eyes, but where Eddie once saw guilt he now also saw a small fraction of resolve. Bill and Mike must've have spoken again while Eddie was upstairs, because in Mike’s eyes here was also an unfamiliar look of somber acceptance. “You can’t just bottle it all up forever.” 

Richie looked up, a dry laugh escaping his mouth. “Well, doing that's gotten me this far.” 

“And LOOK at yourself, Richie!” Bill nearly shouted, not stuttering once. “We _know_ you’re not okay. All we want is for us to be able to help you.” 

“Please,” Beverly sniffed, her soft voice a great contrast to Bill’s, “Listen to him.”

Even from where he stood behind Richie, Eddie could feel him lose his grip. He watched as Richie shook his head anxiously, wanting nothing more than to take Richie into his arms and hold him tight. Richie didn't need the group's words right now, he just needed to know that someone was there for him when he was ready to speak his own. Was it really that hard to decipher?

“I can’t do this right now,” Richie muttered, almost knocking his chair over when he shot up from his seat. He made to turn towards the exit, but instead started to sway where he stood. Eddie instinctively reached out to steady him, one hand on each of his shoulders. Richie quickly reached out to grab the back of the chair as one of his hands moved up to rest flatly on his forehead. 

“Whoa, Richie,” Mike said, him and the other Losers quickly standing. “You alright?” 

Richie sucked in a deep breath before facing the floor and bracing both hands on the back of his chair. He repeated this act few times, the group waiting patiently for him to regain some composure. “Yeah, yeah,” Richie finally answered, pausing for a moment before looking back up at them, “Just...tired, I think.” 

Eddie stepped back as Richie spoke, leaning around to catch Richie’s expression. He kept on hand on Richie’s back as he did. Heart racing and body trembling, Eddie wasn't sure how much longer he could stand here and bear to watch this unfold. But he refused to leave knowing Richie was still here and still in such obvious pain. 

“Did you sleep okay last night?” Mike asked. 

Richie hesitated, grip on his chair tightening. “I, uh...didn’t sleep.” 

“You were up...all night?” Beverly questioned. She raised a hand, hesitating once, before gently placing it on Richie’s shoulder. He flinched at her touch, nodding. 

“R-richie, we d-didn’t sleep at all the night before,” Bill added in pained disbelief, “You h-haven’t slept at all for almost three days?” 

Another nod. “I told you, I-” Richie explained, letting out a defeated sigh, “I don’t want to...I _can’t_ see him like that, not again. But every time I close my eyes, he’s there...in my arms...and-” 

There it was, the moment Eddie was so dreadfully waiting for... 

...Richie's break in his weakening composure.

“Shit,” Richie muttered, voice weak. He was quick to slide his glasses off his face and cover his glassy eyes with his other hand. Sniffing, letting out a shuddering breath through his mouth. “Dammit…” 

“Rich…” Eddie whispered, freezing up. His heart pounded at the sight before him, Richie’s tears only reminding him how helpless he was in stopping them. He felt sick. 

“Hey,” Ben said comfortingly, rushing over to brace his friend, “Let’s get you upstairs, okay Richie?” 

Richie nodded without hesitation. He let Ben wrap an arm around his back to grab his far shoulder, both of them turning to walk back towards the stairs down the hall. Richie slid his glasses back on, freeing his hands so he could fold his arms tightly across his chest. 

The rest of the room was silent as the pair rounded the corner, the sound of their muffled footsteps growing fainter as they made their way down the hall. Beverly was first to move, hand quickly reaching to cover her mouth as she tried to stifle her cries. She’d been desperately trying to hold it all in until Richie was out of earshot. Bill and Mike, who weren’t in much better shape, were quick to Beverly’s side to comfort her. 

“H-he’ll come around,” Bill said, his voice unconvincing and frustrated. His expression was that of defeat, like it was his fault he couldn’t get Richie to open up in order to see how bad he really was. 

“I’m not leaving until he does,” Beverly cried, resting her head against Mike’s chest as he embraced her. 

“He will,” Mike said, sharing a nervous stare with Bill over Beverly’s head. “He will.” 

Eddie started to panic, his eyes darting back and forth between the remaining Losers in the room and the doorway Richie and Ben just walked through. This was all too much, way too fucking much. He couldn’t think straight, his heartbeat so loud in his head he could barely pick up the sound of Stanley’s saying something beside him. 

“What?” Eddie said, turning to face him. 

“Go,” Stanley repeated, nodding his head towards the hallway, “I’ll stay with them down here.” 

Eddie nodded, turning to bolt upstairs. 

“Eddie,” Stanley called from behind, Eddie pausing to glance over his shoulder. Stanley’s eyes were sincere when he spoke, laced with sadness but also a firm belief. “It’s going to be okay.” 

With another nod, Eddie rushed down the hall and up the stairs, desperate to get back to Richie’s side.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Shooting the Moon - OK Go
> 
> All of the astronauts  
> Champagne in plastic cups  
> Waiting for the big hero to show  
> Outside the door he stands  
> His head in his hands  
> And his heart in his throat
> 
> What can he tell them now  
> Sorry I let you down  
> Sorry it wasn't quite true  
> But don't get hung up on it  
> Just solider on with it  
> And good luck with shooting the moon
> 
> Shooting the moon  
> Shooting the moon, the moon  
> Shooting the moon
> 
> All of the principals  
> Generals, admirals  
> And the podium lit with the spotlight  
> The crowd buzzing quietly  
> Waiting expectantly  
> Like it's opening night
> 
> What can he tell them now  
> Sorry I let you down  
> Sorry it wasn't quite true  
> But don't get hung up on it  
> Just solider on with it  
> And good luck with shooting the moon
> 
> Shooting the moon  
> Shooting the moon, the moon  
> Shooting the moon


	7. Touch

The sun had set, vanishing beneath the horizon and taking its warm light with it. 

Eddie made his way down the darkened space, which was lit by a single flickering light. He followed the low tone of voices that echoed from the end of the hall, the sounds growing as he neared the threshold to Richie’s room. Slipping through the doorway, Eddie found both Richie and Ben sitting on Richie’s unmade bed. Richie sat leaning against the backboard with his knees pulled inwards, tightly clutching a pillow with both arms. Across from his sat Ben, cross-legged and hands folded in his lap. 

Quietly, as if he thought the others could still hear him, Eddie made his way to the bed and settled himself between the pair and back a ways. Together, the trio formed a triangle on the bed, but with Richie and Ben facing directly towards each other. Eddie hated how that single detail made him feel so closed off. It took a respectable amount of strength to restrain himself from chucking the empty glass on the nightstand across the room. Not that he could actually do such a thing. 

“Thanks for getting me out of there, Ben,” Richie said, shifting his arms on the pillow. He’d stopped crying by the time Eddie caught up with him. 

Ben shook his head, sighing. “It was our fault,” he admitted, “We pushed you too hard when you clearly weren’t ready to talk about it.” 

Richie hesitated, searching Ben’s eyes for something Eddie couldn’t quite figure out. He could tell Richie wanted to ask Ben something personal, but he didn't know what until the question finally fell from Richie's mouth. “How can you ever be ready...for something like that?” 

Blinking, Ben looked back at Richie in surprise. Relief flooded his eyes as he gave Richie a warm yet somber stare. He knew he was breaking new ground with Richie and made sure to phrase his next words carefully. “You can’t be, not really.” 

“Then what do I do?” 

“You can’t just wait around for this to go away,” Ben replied, his tone gentle yet growing in seriousness, “Because something like this won’t ever go away, not completely. You have to accept what happened, and over time, you’ll eventually learn how to live with it.” 

“What if I can’t?” Richie asked. 

“Can’t what?” 

“Can’t accept it,” Richie replied, desperation flooding his eyes. Eddie’s vision blurred at the words, his body constricting like he’d just been punched in the gut. 

Grief flashed across Ben’s face. “Coming to terms doesn’t have to happen all at once, Richie. You go at your own pace, and you can break it down into as many steps are you want.” 

Richie stared at Ben, transfixed yet apprehensive. “How?” 

“Why don’t you start by just telling yourself things that are true?” Ben asked, tilting his head slightly. “Things that might be hard to say, but will help solidify them in your mind.” 

“Like what?” Richie asked, becoming flustered as he tried to think of something to say. “Where do I even start?” 

Ben hesitated, looking like he knew exactly what to say, but was nervous to share it. He took a breath, staring Richie right in the eyes as he spoke three simple words. “Eddie is dead.” 

Jesus fuck, hearing those words spoken out loud made Eddie nearly pass out from grief as a new wave of dizziness struck him hard. 

_Eddie is dead._

Eddie visibly shivered next to them as a new and unfamiliar kind of pain enveloped his heart. For the first time since the quarry, Eddie felt like he was spectating through someone else's eyes rather than truly sitting on the bed with them. It was a horrifying, gut-clenching experience that Eddie wouldn't wish on anyone.

At Ben’s answer, Richie’s eyes widened and his mouth fell open, but no words came out. He stared back at Ben’s unwavering expression, a war surely raging in his mind. Eyes falling shut, Richie sucked in a deep breath, nodding his head a few times. He hesitated, exhaling after a steady ten seconds. “...Eddie is...dead…”

Christ, it was so much _worse_ coming from Richie. Eddie cursed to himself, burying his face in his hands. He’d never felt so empty, hearing Richie say those three words. Each one was like a dagger to the heart. 

“That’s it, Richie,” Ben whispered, placing a steadying hand on Richie’s knee. 

Richie opened his eyes at the touch, looking up to meet Ben’s eyes. “Eddie is...dead.” 

Ben nodded, a pained expression overtaking his face. He tried his best to cover it up, encouraging Richie to continue. “One more time,” Ben said, as if he knew exactly how this worked. Like he’d experienced all of this before. 

Swallowing, Richie squeezed the pillow even tighter to his chest as his last words came out as just a whisper. “Eddie is dead.” 

“Okay,” Ben said softly, leaning back and making his way to stand from the bed. “After some time, add another phrase. Then another. We'll keep going until you’re able to say everything you need to.” 

Richie watched Ben stand and make his way towards the door. “Ben,” He called quietly, waiting until the man glanced back at him. “Have you...done this before?” 

“Uh,” Ben looked down at the floor, arms folding across his chest. “Yeah...when my dad...when he-” 

Richie shot him an understanding look, silently telling him he didn’t need to finish his explanation. Hesitating, Richie let his grip on the pillow loosen. He extended his legs on the bed until they fell flat, staring back at Ben with very tired eyes. “Thanks, Haystack.” 

Ben smiled softly at the nickname. “Get some rest, alright?” 

Richie nodded as Ben stepped out of his room, closing the door behind him. Eddie said nothing, pain still striking him in unbearable waves, as Richie leaned over and switched off the lamp on his nightstand. Although it was hard to see him, Eddie heard Richie ruffle around under the blankets, shifting on his side to lay facing his direction. 

“Eddie is dead,” He heard Richie murmur into his pillow, “Eddie is dead.” 

Eddie curled into himself, wrapping his arms tightly around his knees. Normally, he’d be right at Richie’s side, trying to comfort him with steadying hands and a tight embrace. But hearing those words, again and again, flow out of Richie’s mouth? The agony was unimaginable. He was a shadow, and that’s all he would ever be. 

Voiceless, soundless, lifeless. 

“Eddie is dead.” 

Eddie could barely bring himself to look over at the dark space where Richie’s voice came from. “Richie…” 

“Eddie is dead.” 

“I’m right here, Rich…” 

“Eddie is dead.”

“ _Please, Richie, I’m right here._ ”

Eddie lost himself in his own grief, swallowed by the overwhelming pain that crashed down on him every time Richie spoke those words. It fragmented him, breaking him apart again and again until it felt like there was nothing left to hold onto. He didn’t know why it hurt so damn much. Eddie knew he was dead. He’d accepted that, or at least as much as he could bring himself to. But why, whenever Richie said the same, did it seem like the entire world suddenly started to explode, closing in around him and strangling him, suffocating him?

The silence of night deepened as Richie fell asleep. Eddie couldn’t see him well in the darkness, but he could tell by the slow and steady breaths from Richie’s side of the bed that he’d finally, after so many days, found some rest. It brought Eddie some relief, letting himself be lulled into a daze by the rhythmic breathing beside him. Perhaps this was the worst of it, then, seeing that someone finally appeared to get through to Richie. Not completely, but enough to allow for Richie to find the sleep his body so desperately needed. Eddie wanted to accept the notion, desiring nothing more than to hope it was true. 

But Eddie knew better than to believe in such things. 

Hope was a fool’s dream. 

Hours passed before a sudden shift of the bed pulled Eddie from his thoughts. Richie flipped onto his back, his breathing growing more rapid as his arms jerked at his sides. 

“Rich?” Eddie whispered, leaning over to catch a better glimpse of the man through the darkness that flooded the room. 

Richie didn’t answer, not that Eddie was expecting one. Instead, the man beside him started to shake his head back and forth on the pillow, muttering something under his breath as his breathing became even more erratic. “Eds…” He murmured, voice partially muffled by the sheets that covered him. “Eddie…” 

_Richie...Richie?_

_...Eddie-_

“Richie,” Eddie gasped, reaching over and placing a flat hand on Richie’s forehead. The man was soaked with sweat. “Shit,” Eddie swore, quickly realizing what was happening. Taking a deep breath, Eddie did his best to prepare himself for what he was about to witness, forcing himself to acknowledge there was nothing he could do to stop it. His breathing labored, Richie clenched the sheets of the bed with two tight fists as he cried Eddies name aloud again, much louder this time. 

"Eddie!"

“Rich, I’m right here!” Eddie begged, reaching out to find Richie’s shoulders. “It’s okay!” 

Richie screamed, the sound agonizing, shrill, and piercing. Eddie hadn’t heard anything like it before in his life. 

“EDDIE!” Richie screamed again, shooting upright in the bed. His breaths came in forced wheezes. When his eyes frantically darted around the room only to find a pitch black void in front of him, Richie cried out again. “ _EDDIE!_ ” 

Eddie sat, violently shaking, tears spilling from his eyes as Richie screamed his name in terror. He didn’t move… _couldn’t_ move, until someone slammed Richie’s door open and flicked on the overhead light. “Richie?!” Beverly cried, bracing herself with her hands on either side of the door frame. She wore a loose shirt and baggy pants, hair tied up in a messy bun. Quickly taking in the scene before her, Beverly caught her breath for a moment before rushing over to Richie’s side. 

“Eddie,” Richie breathed, eyes landing on Beverly as she made her way over to the bed. He panickedly searched over her shoulders and all sides of the room before turning back towards her, flustered. “Bev! Bev, where’s Eddie-”

Eddie let out a choked sob, wrapping his arms tightly around himself, not ready to go through it all again. But he wasn’t about to leave Richie. So he’d have to face the invisible being that clasped at his heart once more, threatening to squeeze what little of his soul remained in this lifeless form. He had to stay with Richie. 

“Richie…” Beverly gasped, eyes wide with fear as she reached up and placed a hand on either side of Richie’s flushed face. Richie stared back at her, his breathing fast and ragged, as he studied Beverly’s eyes. He could see her concern, her grief. 

Through blurred vision, Eddie saw the exact moment everything clicked in Richie’s mind. His face shifted from that of confusion, to awareness, to a horrified understanding. “Fuck,” Richie cried out, his eyes squeezing shut, “FUCK!” 

Beverly shifted so that her back was to the headboard, her shoulder brushing against Richie’s. In one fluid movement, she lifted her arm and wrapped it around Richie’s shoulders, pulling him close. The man stiffened at first, but quickly relaxed under her touch. Richie let himself sink down until his head was resting on her shoulder. A few short moments passed before he lifted his arms and, with great hesitation, wrapped them around Beverly’s torso. Richie trembled against her, eyes still squeezed tightly shut. 

“It’s okay to cry, Rich,” Beverly said gently, reaching around with her free hand to run it through his hair. Almost instantly, Richie let his burning tears fall, burying his face into Beverly’s neck. “I’ve got you,” Beverly whispered, “It’s okay.” 

Eddie cried even harder at the sight of Richie so fragile in Beverly’s arms. He was over a head taller than her, yet he looked so small as his body crumpled into hers. Beverly held him so tenderly, slowly stroking his hair with the lightest touch. And when Richie started to cry harder, Beverly held him even tighter. His tears fell upon her shirt, leaving darkened marks that Beverly paid no mind to. 

More footsteps could be heard approaching the doorway, and Eddie couldn’t even tell who they belonged to through his tears. Wiping them away, he found Bill, Ben, and Stanley. Mike, who'd taken to sleeping on the downstairs couch, was probably the only one far enough away to sleep through the commotion. 

“Bev?” Bill asked, partially squinting under the light of the room. 

Richie buried himself further into Beverly’s embrace at the sound of the other’s voices in the room, trying to hide his face. Eddie flinched as he watched his friend's futile attempts to stifle his loud sobs. “It’s okay,” Beverly answered softly, “He’s okay. Just a nightmare.” 

Bill, struck with grief at the sight, walked over and grabbed the empty glass that sat on the nightstand. He walked into the bathroom, switched on the sink, and returned with a full glass of water. Beverly shot him a thankful look as he placed it back on the nightstand, offering a saddened smile. Returning one, Bill walked back towards the door, understanding that Richie wanted space. He shared a look with Ben as he left, patting him on the shoulder twice.

“I’m gonna stay with him,” Beverly said, answering Ben’s unspoken question. The man’s expression softened as he nodded before stepping back into the hall and shutting the door behind him. Only Stanley remained, standing just inside the door with his widened eyes locked on Richie. Despite his earlier encounter with Richie, this was yet another side of his friend he hadn’t seen, not to this extent. Stanley's face paled as he tried to register the scene before him. 

“S-stan,” Eddie wept loudly, letting his arms fall limp in his lap. His head fell with them, unable to look at Stanley as his clenched hands trembled uncontrollably in front of him. 

“Shit, Eddie,” Stanley breathed, Eddie’s cry snapping him out of his trance. He strode over towards the other side of the bed, sitting down next to Eddie and pulling him close in one fluid movement. Eddie latched onto him immediately, more tears spilling onto his friend’s shoulder as he cried. 

Nobody spoke for a while, until Richie finally seemed to calm down enough to shift so that his head rest on the pillow next to Beverly. He glanced up at his friend, who continued to slowly stroke his hair even after he moved. “Eddie is dead,” Richie whispered with a sniff, his voice empty but aware. “He’s...dead, Bevvie.” 

Beverly, who heroically managed to maintain some form of composure throughout the ordeal, suddenly broke at the weakness in Richie’s voice. A few tears slipped from the corners of her eyes, but she made no move to wipe them away. “Yes,” She cried, resting her hand on the side of Richie’s face, “He’s gone.” 

“He saved me...” Richie added, voice somehow even quieter than it was before. Eddie tensed in Stanley’s arms, unable to stop his body from trembling. 

Beverly nodded, eyes closing for a brief moment. 

“I miss him,” Richie whimpered, voice cracking as looked back up to meet Beverly’s gaze. A single tear spilled down his face as he spoke. “I miss him so much.” 

“I know,” Beverly answered, pulling Richie close again. She leaned in close, planting a gentle kiss on the top of Richie’s head. “I do, too.” 

As time passed, the atmosphere began to quiet once again, returning to the silent lull of night. Beverly fell asleep soon after Richie had, both of them facing each other on their sides. They slept through the rest of the night, their rest uninterrupted. Eddie wasn’t sure how long Stanley held him, trying so desperately to soothe his distressed friend. Hours could have passed, for all he knew. It wasn’t until the first signs of light came in through the window that Stanley finally shifted, pulling himself away from Eddie. Stanley had gotten him to stop shaking after a while, distracting him with unrelated stories from his life. Eddie couldn’t remember any of them, but Stanley’s calming voice helped put him at ease. 

“Come on,” Stanley said, standing from the bed and offering Eddie two hands. Eddie took them before Stanley smoothly pulled him into a standing position. “Come with me.” 

“Where are we going?” Eddie asked, throat burning from his panic just hours ago. 

“You’ll see,” Stanley answered, leading him out of Richie’s room and down the stairs. Eddie followed his friend out the front door and down the street a ways, to where the sidewalk ended against a large, open forested area. 

Together, they settled down a good distance from the road, sitting back-to-back on a large boulder. Silence followed, Eddie still unsure of what was happening. “Now what?” 

“Now we wait,” Stanley uttered quietly from behind him. 

Eddie opened his mouth to ask him what they were waiting for, but decided against it. Stanley would probably only give him some half-assed answer, anyways. Almost ten minutes passed before he finally felt Stanley jerk lightly against his back, tapping Eddie’s shoulder. “Look, there!” Stanley whispered, pointing up towards the tree branch almost thirty feet above them. “That’s a Blackpoll Warbler.” 

Eddie followed his friend’s gaze, quickly spotting the black and white-flecked bird. It hopped along the branch, inspecting its leaves as it went, probably in search of some food. His gaze then fell back down to Stanley, who was staring at him with an excited smile. Eddie huffed an exhausted laugh at Stanley’s enthusiasm. It was the happiest Eddie had seen him since his return from the quarry. His expression softened, feeling some of the tension leave his body as he looked back up at the branches. Eddie spotted another bird scaling the side of a tree, its back black and stomach white. It was hard to tell, but it looked like there was a patch of warm color on the top of its head. 

“What about that one?” Eddie asked, pointing towards the bird he’d spotted. Stanley’s smile grew wider at the question, the sight of his expression sending a surge of reassurance through Eddie. 

“Oh, that’s a Black-backed Woodpecker.” 

“Tell me about them,” Eddie said, shifting so that they were back-to-back once again. And when Stanley started to speak, he let himself slip away into a world in which he tried to forget, just for a short while, his own nightmare. 

One from which he would never wake up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Touch - Sleeping at Last 
> 
> When will I feel this  
> As vivid as it truly is,  
> Fall in love in a single touch,  
> And fall apart when it hurts too much?
> 
> Can we skip past near-death clichés  
> Where my heart restarts, as my life replays?  
> All I want is to flip a switch  
> Before something breaks that cannot be fixed.
> 
> I know, I know - the sirens sound  
> Just before the walls come down.  
> Pain is a well-intentioned weatherman  
> Predicting God as best he can,  
> But God I want to feel again.
> 
> Rain or shine, I don't feel a thing,  
> Just some information upon my skin.  
> I miss the subtle aches when the weather changed,  
> The barometric pressure we always blamed.
> 
> All I want is to flip a switch  
> Before something breaks that cannot be fixed.
> 
> Invisible machinery,  
> These moving parts inside of me  
> Well, they've been shutting down for quite some time,  
> Leaving only rust behind.
> 
> Well I know, I know - the sirens sound  
> Just before the walls come down.  
> Pain is a well-intentioned weatherman  
> Predicting God as best he can,  
> But God I want to feel again,  
> Oh God I want to feel again.
> 
> Down my arms, a thousand satellites  
> Suddenly discover signs of life.


	8. Anger

Rays of light streamed through the window, pooling the room with a bright afternoon light. 

The scattered furniture seemed to glow around its edges, reflecting the sun’s shine. Eddie sat in the windowsill of the front room with his legs tucked underneath himself, the evening sun lacking any warmth against his skin. Nearly a week had passed since his death, and still he struggled to grow accustomed to the strange, lifeless sensation. Stanley sat on the ledge beside him, a half-read book he’d found inside a cupboard resting in his lap. He had one leg was propped up on the windowsill and the other dangling from the side.

It baffled Eddie how he could hold the book and read it, only to have it mysteriously disappear back into the cupboard once he put it down. Just like the blades of grass he once tore from the ground outside that returned to the dirt in-tact after he glanced away. Even though the phenomenon seriously fucked with his brain, a calm atmosphere filled the room. Eddie closed his eyes and, embracing the quiet, leaned back his head to relish the feeling. 

Richie’s first nightmare happened three nights ago. 

Following that tortuous night, the remainder of the week passed a hauntingly similar fashion. In the early morning, Stanley would take Eddie to a new spot he’d found nearby, showing him all the new bird species he identified in the area. Eddie solely used the activity as a distraction at first, but he soon grew to genuinely enjoy it. It provided a temporary relief from the constant horrors wreaking havoc on his heart while in the Townhouse. 

The serenity of the isolated patches he and Stanley visited were immensely calming, like nothing Eddie had been able to experience in a very long time. Sure, New York had Central Park, but this was nothing like that at all. A peaceful silence surrounded them, engulfed by early morning fog. Dew lined the grass on most days, its blades shimmering a brilliant light when caught in the morning sun’s gaze. Eddie even came to learn the calls of different birds, their tweets and whistles all so different from each other. Even though the birds couldn’t hear them, Stanley taught Eddie how to mimic a few, which usually resulting in fits of laughter. 

“Wow, you actually managed to sound somewhat like a bird that time,” Stanley would say to him with a wink. 

“You’re such a dick,” Eddie would reply, unable to keep a straight face. 

By the time they’d return to the Townhouse, the group would usually be eating lunch. It’d taken some convincing, but Mike was finally able to get Richie to come downstairs for all three meals of the day, rather than just dinner. To Eddie and Stanley’s unspoken comfort, the Losers had left the two extra chairs out for them throughout the week. Nobody dared touch them, but someone always had their spots set for a meal just like everyone else's. It was a simple act for the surviving Losers but very moving gesture to Eddie. 

To have all seven of their group together in one place allowed meals to provide a special comfort for Eddie, even if the others weren’t aware he and Stanley were present. Eddie watched them all with such admiration, heart flowing with love for the friends he’d never speak to again. With every day that passed, a bit more light shined in their eyes, and Eddie took it as a hopeful sign that they had all started to heal. 

Except for Richie, that is. 

Eddie still spent most of his time by Richie’s side, only occasionally visiting with the others. Richie preferred to spend his days locked away in his room while trying to find ways to distract himself from the unrelenting grief still heavy in his mind. Like Stanley, he’d also found a book to read, but this one came from Eddie’s luggage. Richie still made occasional trips to Eddie’s room, stopping to grab another shirt to wear or to sift through his fanny pack again and smile sadly to himself. A majority of Richie’s time, however, was spent lying in bed and staring blankly at the ceiling. He’d sometimes repeat those words Ben told him to say under his breath to himself, but now the list had grown much longer. 

_I killed a man._

_I killed a man to save Mike._

_Eddie is dead._

_He saved me._

_Eddie died saving me._

_We won, because of him._

_I miss him so much._

_Stan is dead._

_We won, because of him._

_I miss him, too._

_I forgot them both._

_It wasn’t my fault I forgot them._

_It was the clown’s fault._

_The clown is dead._

_He can’t come back._

_He won’t come back_

_And neither will they._

Although it brought endless surges of agony to do so, Eddie always stayed with Richie as he recited his long list of truths. He’d stare up at Richie, trying so damn hard to hold his hand and cup his face, pouring every ounce of energy into trying to tell Richie he was _there_. But there were a few times when the words became just too heavy to bear, weighing down on Eddie until he found it hard to breathe. He’d step outside and check on the others to alleviate the pain, waiting until Richie was done until going back upstairs. 

There were a few rare occasions when Eddie found Richie on his phone, scrolling through his social media accounts but refraining from posting anything new. Eddie laid beside him on the bed and leaned over to read what was on the screen. The side of his head often ghosted just beside Richie’s shoulder, providing a short rush of comfort that always faded far too quickly. Richie eventually found an article about his alleged freak-out onstage, the author speculating what might’ve happened and where Richie was now. Eddie’s stomach twisted when Richie scrolled down to the comments, finding a range of replies that stretched from concern for his well-being, speculations on how many drugs he was on, to his “complete lack of talent.” 

As if on cue, the familiar sight of Richie’s manager’s number popped up on his phone screen. Richie reached to hang up, but had hesitated. By then he’d accumulated over twenty missed calls and he was probably getting worried that if he avoided his manager any longer, the man would send a search party after him. If there wasn’t one already. “Steve?” Richie answered timidly. Eddie strained to hear the voice on the other side of the line, barely able to make out the words. 

_“Christ, Richie! I’ve been calling you for almost a week, did you know that? Are you okay?”_

“Uh, yeah,” Richie said, rubbing his temples with his free hand, “I’m okay.” 

_”What happened? Where are you?”_

“...Remember that phone call I got? Before my last show?” Richie asked nervously, hands shaking a bit.

_”Yeah, yeah I do.”_

“I’m…” Richie started, frantically searching the room for an answer that he knew he wouldn’t find there. “I had to go home...to where I grew up. I...my friend. One of my old best friends, he, um...he...died unexpectedly.” 

_”Oh, damn. I’m...really sorry to hear that, Richie.”_

“I’m sorry I...didn’t call you back sooner, Steve. It’s just been...really hard and I needed to get my head straight.” 

_”No, no. Shit, don’t apologize. You gave me a real good scare, Richie...but I’m just glad to hear from you.”_

“Listen, man,” Richie continued, his free hand now fidgeting with the bed sheets, “About my dates coming up…” 

_”You wanna push’em back?”_

“More like postpone them indefinitely,” Richie sighed, holding his breath as he visibly cringed. There was a silence on the other end of the line for far too long. Eddie could feel the tension growing in the room with every soundless second that passed. 

_”Is there any chance for me to change your mind, Rich?”_

“No,” Richie replied, hand covering his eyes. “I’m sorry.” 

_”This won’t look good for press.”_

“I don’t care,” Richie half-snapped, patience growing thin. A sigh could be heard through the phone. Eddie wanted to punch the guy. 

_”Okay. I’ll cancel them.”_

“Okay,” Richie nodded plainly, “I have to go.” 

_”Keep in touch, Richie.”_

“Good job, Rich,” Eddie had said quietly, still laying beside Richie after the man hung up the call. Richie groaned, tossing his phone to the side and running both hands over his face. He had told the others about the call at dinner that night, and other than a few side comments about how rude his manager sounded, the group praised Richie for standing up for himself and doing what he wanted. Richie smiled back in return. 

In the evenings, usually around the time Richie went back upstairs for the night, Eddie would stay downstairs for a bit to listen to the remaining Losers converse. During the early days of the week, their talks were often dark and sorrow-filled. They spoke freely of their internal conflicts, but Eddie could see the restraint in their eyes when they held something back. He listened in heavy silence as the Losers spoke of what clown made them see, what still haunted them, what kept them up at night, what they still feared...

Eddie often did the same with Stanley off towards the side. He told Stanley about the leper, how he managed to fight back and make it feel small. How he got everyone else to do the same with the clown down in the cistern. Stanley would sit quietly, listening with clear intent, but contributing very little. Eddie never pushed him on it. 

On the first night Richie stayed downstairs after dinner, the group’s conversations slowly shifted to those of a lighter weight. They reminisced over their days spent in the Clubhouse Ben had built for them, hiking through the forest near the barrens, biking through their neighborhoods in the late evenings, passing notes in the halls and in class during school, sleeping over in each other’s basements…

It was a bittersweet awakening of memories Eddie thought were lost forever. 

With every story told, more memories came flooding back to Eddie’s conscious mind. He smiled at most, laughing along with the others when they told stories of their childhood mischief. A warmth blossomed in Eddie’s chest when they spoke admirably about him and Stanley as children. The Losers took turns sharing their favorite memories of the pair, drawing loud laughs and shouts from the others as their remarks brought even more memories back to the surface. Richie listened to all of them from the bar, where he leaned with his back against the counter and his arms crossed over his chest. Someone, Eddie didn't know who, had moved all the bottles of alcohol out of sight and into the cupboards. He noticed how closely the others always watched Richie whenever he approached the bar, ready to direct him away into another room if he reached for the cupboard doors. Alcohol would only make Richie's problems worse, and it didn't take long for Richie to pick up on his friends' concerned, watchful eyes over the fact. He never went for the cupboards once.

Richie was too restless to sit down, preferring to stand where he could easily shift his weight from one foot to the other. Eddie sat on the stool adjacent to Richie and regularly glanced over to check on him. While Richie didn’t contribute much towards the conversation, a rush of relief flooded through Eddie’s body when he turned to find Richie smiling softly to himself a few times. A twinge of grief entered the mix when Eddie spotted the silent tears streaming down the man’s flushed face, the same somber smile still present. 

The nights were the hardest. 

Every night following his initial nightmare, Richie would routinely awaken at some random time during the night while screaming, thrashing, and shrieking Eddie’s name. Eddie was always there, every second of every night, hovering over Richie as he sobbed to himself or into Beverly’s shoulder. But even with the hard nights, Eddie slowly started to see some improvement in Richie. The man still struggled greatly, and it showed when his night terrors continued, he spent most of his time laying in bed, and he still didn’t contribute to almost any conversations unless addressed directly. 

Yet, at the same time, Richie had also opened up about his nightmares to Beverly and fearfully told her what he always saw. Beverly welcomed his open confession with the greatest patience, moved by the same improvement in Richie that Eddie saw. Richie got out of bed multiple times per day, which was alone in itself an achievement when faced with such grief. And while Richie continued to sport a much more reserved demeanor than his light-hearted self that the other Losers knew so well, his small smiles and increased effort to leave his room and go downstairs had grown apparent. After seeing everything Richie had been through and the dark places he’d fallen into, this was enough. 

For now, at least, it was enough. 

Voices entered the front room and pulled Eddie back to reality, where he found himself still sitting in the windowsill with Stanley and his book beside him. He glanced over, finding Beverly and Bill walking into the front room together. Mike wasn’t back from town yet, and Eddie could clearly hear the sound of water was running upstairs through the old pipes, so Ben must’ve been in the shower. 

The pair sat down on the couch, Beverly informing Bill about her most recent call with her divorce lawyer, and how it went well. Bill smiled at her, truly happy to hear it. “Did you book your plane ticket home yet?” Beverly asked once the topic had shifted to travel plans. “Ben booked ours earlier today, our flight leaves tomorrow afternoon.” 

_Tomorrow afternoon._

Fuck. 

Eddie thought he’d have more time with them. 

FUCK.

“N-no, not yet,” Bill answered, frowning. Eddie guessed from his expression that he’d completely forgotten about doing so. “I should probably g-get on that, huh?” 

“Yeah, probably,” Beverly chuckled under her breath, smile slowly fading from her face as something else popped into her mind. “Bill?” 

“Hm?” Bill said, looking up from his phone where he’d been searching for plane ticket prices. 

“I’m...still worried about Richie,” She admitted, quieting her voice on the off chance Richie would come downstairs at that moment. “I don’t think he’s ready to be by himself.” 

Bill frowned, pocketing his phone as a more serious look overcame his face. “Do you think he'll...h-harm himself?” 

Eddies head shot up at that. 

“No,” Beverly answered honestly, “I don’t think so, but...we’re the only reason he gets out of bed, leaves his room, and eats and drinks enough. If someone isn’t there to tell him to do all those things...I don’t think he will.”

Eddie stood from where he sat on the windowsill, making his way over to lean against the back of the couch. He listened to Beverly in silence, glancing back at Stanley and shooting him a concerned look. She was right and they both knew it. Bill opened his mouth to respond, but the sound of footsteps coming down the stairs shut him up. The pair turned to face the archway on the other side of the room, offering small smiles to Richie when he rounded the corner and walked in. 

“Hey, Rich,” Beverly said warmly, watching as Richie walked past them and placed a book back into the drawer of the table by the window. 

“Hey,” Richie said, turning to face them. 

“Did you f-finish it?” Bill asked, nodding towards the table in which Richie placed his book. 

Richie nodded, “Mhm.” 

“How was it?” Beverly asked, leaning over the back of the couch and resting her chin on her arms. 

“Fine, I guess,” Richie shrugged, shoving his hands in his pockets, “Don’t really remember most of it, to be honest…” 

A few moments of silence passed before Richie started to make his way back towards the hallway. 

“Hey, Richie wait,” Bill called, leaning forward so his elbows rested on his thighs. He folded his hands together, shooting a quick glance over in Beverly’s direction before turning back towards Richie. 

Richie stopped and turned to face him. “What?” 

“Why d-don’t you come stay with me and Audra for a b-bit,” Bill said, his expression softening. “We have a guest room, and I could, uh, use the c-c-company while I work on my next book.” 

A pause. 

Staring back with a thoughtful expression, Richie looked between Bill and Beverly a few times. It was clear on Richie’s face that he knew Beverly was behind this. And with her sitting right there, staring him down expectantly, how the hell could Richie say no and expect to get away with it? “Uh, sure,” Richie agreed, meeting Beverly’s satisfied gaze for a moment before turning back to Bill. “I don’t wanna like, impede or anything, though.” 

“N-not at all, Rich,” Bill smiled, “You’re w-welcome as long as you like.” 

Richie nodded, shifting his weight again where he stood. “Alright, well thanks, Bill.” 

Eddie found himself wearing a small smile, a wave of relief rushing through him. It made him feel immensely better knowing that someone would still be looking out for Richie after everyone left this hellhole of a town. “Of course, R-r-richie,” Bill replied, glancing down to swipe at his phone screen a few times. He adjusted his glasses, double-checking the prices of the tickets he’d found before Richie came downstairs. “There’s a flight t-tomorrow evening. Is t-that okay?” 

Shit.

Richie hesitated, opening his mouth to answer before stopping with his words trapped on his lips. “Uh,” Richie breathed, looking down. He started tapping his foot. “Yeah, yeah. That should work.” 

Fucking shit.

“Okay, I’ll b-book them now,” Bill replied, watching as Richie turned to head back upstairs. He waited until their friend was out of earshot before facing back towards Beverly. 

“Thank you,” Beverly smiled, placing a gentle hand on top of Bill’s and giving it a firm squeeze. “I think this will be good for him.” 

“Yeah, I t-think so too,” Bill said, shooting Beverly a bittersweet look. 

Eddie kicked himself for acting so selfish and wanting more time with all of the Losers together. But at the same time, he knew they couldn’t stay here forever. Staying as long as they already had was tough enough on their work schedules. They had to pull a lot of strings to get the extra time off, especially after disappearing with almost no notice the week prior. 

That didn’t make it hurt any less, though. 

If anything, Eddie was more afraid of what would happen to _him_ after everyone else left. There was much he still couldn’t grasp about this strange world he now resided in. But if Stanley was right about what he said about Eddie being able to do whatever he wanted...Eddie wanted to go with Richie and Bill. The decision took no prior thought or consideration. If Richie was going with Bill, then so would Eddie. He had to make sure his friend was alright. 

“It’ll b-be strange, don’t you think?” Bill asked, pulling Eddie back to the present. 

“What’ll be strange?” 

“Returning t-to our normal lives, our jobs,” Bill said somberly, “All of us going b-back and pretending like nothing happened h-h-here.” 

“Yeah,” Beverly breathed somberly, seeming to have never previously thought about the notion, “Weird.” 

Eddie stared at them from where he stood behind the couch. He imagined what it would be like, if he were still alive, to return to his home. To return to Myra. He shuddered, his displeased reaction less about returning to New York and more of the dread that pooled in his stomach at the idea of walking back into his old life. No, it didn’t seem like Eddie wanted to return home at all. Not after everything he’d come to learn about himself and the horrors of his forgotten childhood trauma that brought him to that point. 

A few hours passed before Eddie re-joined Stanley at the windowsill. While Eddie was stuck in his own trance, Stanley grabbed the book Richie placed in the table and started reading it, his old book vanishing the moment it hit the ledge. Eddie shuddered. Even after a week, he still wasn’t used to that mind-boggling, other-worldly concept. The pair sat in a comfortable silence until the noise of the front door opening pulled their attention towards the foyer. 

Mike strode in, carrying a decent-sized box in his arms. Eddie watched him walk over and place it in the corner of the room with a few others like it. The man had left earlier that morning to pick up a few more belongings from his place. His entire life was holed up in that tiny space above the library for so many years, and Mike had made an impressive effort during the past few days to clear out his things and clean it up for the next owner. 

“Hey, Mikey,” Bill greeted from behind the screen of his laptop, looking up from where he lay sprawled out across the couch. He was the only one still in the room. The other three Losers had gone upstairs after dinner to get ready for bed. 

“Hey,” Mike threw him a tired smile, brushing his hands together to rid them of the dust and dirt that coated the box’s surface. “Sorry I missed dinner, I got caught up with some things back at the library.” 

“It’s alright,” Bill reassured him, noticing the object Mike held in his hand. “What’s that?” 

Mike glanced down at the envelope, running his thumb across the outside label. He didn’t answer. 

Something changed in Mike’s face and Bill caught wind of the sudden shift almost immediately. “Mike? What is it?” 

Meeting Bill’s eyes, Mike spoke with a nervous tone. “This showed up in my mail today, and, uh...just look at it.”

Eyebrows furrowing with concern, Bill reached out and took the envelope from Mike. He adjusted his reading glasses, squinting to read the name on the return address label in the corner. Eddie could see the color drain from his face when he read the name again and again in blatant disbelief. “...Patricia Uris.” 

Stanley’s head shot up at the name, the man already bolting over towards the couch before Eddie even had a chance to react. “Shit…” Stanley cursed, eyes growing wide as he studied the envelope in Bill’s hands. 

“Stan?” Eddie called, uneasy, as he stood up from the windowsill to join Stanley at his side. “What is it?” 

“Patty went back home a few days ago,” Stanley uttered, his eyes not leaving the envelope, “I didn’t think she’d send them so soon…”

“Send what?” Eddie asked, leaning forward in an attempt to catch Stanley’s eye. “Stan, send what?” 

Stanley opened his mouth, but hesitated as his eyes became unfocused. He walked around towards the bar and leaned against the counter with a heavy sigh. He crossed his arms over his chest, shoulders hunching in a bit. “...You’ll see.” 

“We should get the others,” Mike said, his voice lower than usual. He didn’t wait for Bill to agree as he strode out of the room and bound up the stairs. It seemed as though neither Mike nor Bill knew what was in the envelope, but they certainly had a grave suspicion. The entire group was assembled in the front room within a few short minutes, the new arrivals all staring at Mike and Bill in confusion. 

“Will you tell us what’s going on, Mike?” Ben asked as he sat on the couch next to Bill. Beverly sat across from them in a cushioned chair, while Richie stood behind her with his arms crossed tightly. Eddie had subconsciously followed Stanley to the bar, anxiously glancing at his friend for an explanation. He feared the worst when Stanley ignored him once again as he kept his gaze locked on the envelope from his wife. 

“Is something wrong?” Beverly asked, eyeing the object in Mike’s hands. 

Mike walked to stand in front of the archway that led to the foyer, holding the envelope that Bill handed back to him. “I, uh, got this in the mail today over at my place. Bill and I aren’t exactly sure what’s in here, but...we thought it was important to open it together.” 

“What is it?” Richie asked, shifting awkwardly on his feet with his hands shoved in his pockets. 

“A letter,” Bill answered quietly, his eyes swimming with both anticipation and fear. “The return address is to Patricia Uris.” 

“Oh…” Beverly breathed in understanding. 

When nobody spoke, Mike slowly ripped open the envelope and slid his hand inside. A single folded paper appear in his hand. Discarding the envelope on the floor, Mike carefully unfolded the letter and stared at its contents. He let out a heavy, shuddering breath as he read the words at the bottom of the page. Blinking quickly, Mike glanced back towards the anxious Losers surrounding him. “It’s a letter. To ‘the Losers’...from Stan.” 

A heavy, dreadful silence flooded the room. 

Eddie shot a look at Stanley, tears already welling in his eyes as he pieced together the puzzle on his own. “Stan…” 

Without looking towards him, Stanley knew what Eddie was asking. He slowly nodded a few times, heading falling towards the ground as he exhaled deeply. Eddie swallowed nervously. 

“Dear Losers,” Mike read, holding the letter out in front of him. Eddie saw that his hands trembled slightly, but nobody else seemed to notice. “I know what this must seem like, but this isn’t a suicide note.” 

Bill leaned forward off the edge of the couch, taking off his glasses and wiping at the corner of his eye with a fist. He kept his glasses latched between two fingers as he moved to cover his face with both hands. 

“You’re probably wondering why I did what I did,” Mike continued, putting in an effort to read at a slow and steady pace. “It’s because I knew I was too scared to go back. And if we weren’t together, if all of us _alive_ weren’t united, I...knew we’d all die.”

Beverly brought a hand to her mouth and Eddie shot her a concerned glance. He thought back to what she said the night they’d arrived back in Derry. How she looked into the Deadlights and saw each of them die a horrible, painful death. And how her vision of Stanley’s death came true. Eddie couldn’t imagine what must’ve been going through her head at the sound of those words. 

“So, I made the only...logical move,” Mike said, wincing as he read the letter. “I took myself off the board. Did it work? Well, if you’re reading this, you know the answer.” 

At those words, Eddie finally worked up the courage to look at back towards Stanley again. He found the man still leaning against the bar, a hand covering his face. His shoulders shook, and Eddie did the only thing he could think of...he reached over and wrapped his arm around Stanley’s shoulder, pulling the man in tight. Stanley glanced back at him, grief flashing across his face as he lowered his hand to reveal the few tears that had fallen from his eyes. He gave Eddie the best half-smile he could before turning back to face the group. Eddie kept his arm where it was, providing support for his friend as they listened. 

“I lived my whole life afraid,” Mike read, “Afraid of what would come next, afraid of what I might leave behind. Don’t. Be who you want to be. Be proud.” 

Richie shifted suddenly, startling Eddie. 

He watched Richie jerk backwards as he slowly stepped away from the group until he collided with the bar. With a new wave of concern washing over him, Eddie took a few steps towards Richie. His hand slipped from Stanley’s shoulders and fell back to his sides as he walked. Stanley watched Richie closely from behind Eddie, eyes intense, as if searching for something. Peering back-and-forth between the pair, Eddie grew disoriented. 

What just happened? Did he miss something? 

“And if you find someone worth holding onto, never, ever let them go,” Mike continued, barely noticing Richie’s movements as he read on, “Follow your own path, wherever that takes you.” 

From the corner of his eye, Eddie thought he saw Ben look up at Beverly from across the room, but he was far too preoccupied with Richie’s changing demeanor to be certain. In the few seconds that passed between Mike’s pause for breath, all color had drained from Richie’s face. His hands, now pointedly trembling, curled tightly into his chest. The sight set off new blaring alarms in Eddie’s head as he took another hesitant step closer. Eddie gaped at his friend, taken aback by Richie’s sudden loss of composure. 

What the hell triggered _this_?

“Richie?” Eddie whispered cautiously, gradually drawing closer to his panicking friend. 

“Think of this letter as a promise,” Mike recited, his voice growing more strained, “A promise I’m asking you to make. To me, to each other. An oath.”

After finally tearing his eyes away from Richie, Eddie followed Mike’s gaze towards the other surrounding Losers. Bill still had his face buried in his hands, and Beverly sat with her back to Richie, wiping her eyes with a tissue. Ben’s eyes, however, were locked dead on Richie. He stared as a growing worry and anguish became plastered on his face from both the letter’s contents and the reactions it elicited from Richie. Stanley stared at Richie with a similar intensity, not breaking his gaze even after Eddie shot him a scared look. Adrenaline pulsing through his limbs as his mind fell into a helpless panic, Eddie strode the remaining distance to Richie’s side and grasped his shoulders. He studied the man’s face and searched for anything that could give him an answer. 

Eddie found nothing. 

What the _fuck_ was wrong? 

“See the thing about being a Loser is, you don’t have anything to lose,” Mike read, his own voice starting to crack at the words hand-written before him. “So, be true. Be brave. Stand. Believe. And don’t ever forget. We’re losers. And we always will be...” 

Mike’s voice trailed off as he read Stanley’s final words, finally letting the tears he’d been fighting spill down his face. “Stan…” 

At the sound of his name, Stanley finally turned back towards the rest of the group, eyes glistening. 

“Stan the Man,” Bill uttered, finally lifting his head to face his friends again. His eyes held a new clarity, as if he’d just remembered the old nickname along with another fading memory. Tear marks cut across his cheeks but they did nothing to mask his solemn smile. 

Beverly chuckled softly as she sniffed, crumpling her used tissue in her hands. Her smile slowly faded. “I wish he could have been here, to see it all end for good. To be here with us now and make up for the time we lost together,” She admitted weakly. “Eddie too.” 

“Yeah,” Mike agreed, wiping his eyes quickly. “Me too.” 

A broken, strangled cry sounded from the back of the room, the sound pulling everyone’s attention away from Mike to locate the source. The group quickly found it to be Richie, who stood hunched forward and with his head tilted down. His trembling hands were tucked tightly into his chest as he tried to stifle his choked sobs. Ben, who hadn’t taken his eyes off of Richie from the start, worriedly called out his name and stood to walk over to him. He stopped halfway, however, when Richie glanced back up at the group and met their gaze. 

Something changed in Richie’s eyes in that moment. 

Something wickedly dark. 

Eddie couldn’t pinpoint what it was at first. It was like a spark had burst alight in his eyes, his emotions raging with a new intensity Eddie hadn’t seen before. But Eddie watched on as that spark grew into a steady flame so abruptly that he could almost _feel_ the rage flowing through Richie’s body. Eddie’s gaze shifted to the group, and he could tell they all noticed the same thing. 

Something was really, really wrong. 

“Richie?” Ben repeated from across the room, slowly taking another step forwards. 

Richie shook his head, his entire body almost seeming to vibrate with an unfamiliar energy. “Eddie didn’t deserve to die,” He choked, his voice firm yet also shaking, “Stan didn’t, either.” 

“Richie, we-” 

“If anyone was gonna die,” Richie said sharply, cutting Ben off. His eyes looked crazed, his face turning red and fists clenching tightly at his sides. “It should’ve been me.” 

Pain. 

Unspeakable pain. 

A surge of agony ripped through Eddie’s chest, wounding him a hundred times more than that clown’s damn claw ever could. Eddie, the man who sacrificed his life in order to save Richie, now watched in outright horror as Richie tore out his heart with a single confession. Eddie suddenly felt sick, clinging onto the bar behind him to steady himself. 

“Whoa, R-r-richie,” Bill said with a firm voice as he stood from the couch. Raising his hands out and slowly lowering them, he gestured at Richie to calm down. “You s-shouldn't say shit like that.” 

“Why not?” Richie asked critically, hands flying out to either sides with an exaggerated shrug. “Am I wrong?” 

“You should try and keep a level head, Richie-” Mike tried to cut in. 

“ _I’m_ the dumbass who got caught in the fucking Deadlights, aren’t I?!” Richie loudly cried out, a hand rising to his chest to gesture to himself. A steady flow of tears streaked down either side of his face and marked his glasses. 

Jesus fuck. 

Richie believed he was responsible for Eddie’s death. 

“It’s not your fault, Rich,” Eddie’s throat constricted before he started to sob, his body engulfed with the fire Richie set. Dread built in his core as the tension in the room escalated exponentially. It hurt his lungs to breathe. 

“That could’ve been any of us,” Ben interjected calmly, trying to flip Richie’s perspective. 

“But it was _me_ , Ben,” Richie snapped harshly, “And if I’d been faster to get out of the way, then Eddie wouldn’t have had to pull that _goddamn hero bullshit!_ ”

“Please, Richie…” Eddie begged, knees growing weak. He swayed on his feet as the ferocity of Richie’s voice pierced through the room with a lethal sting. Images of his final minutes flashed vividly in Eddie’s mind, his excruciating pain from the memory resurfacing once again. “...I _wanted_ to save you.” 

“But that doesn’t mean you should blame yourself for what happened to Eddie!” Beverly pointedly argued as her hands shook in tight fists at her sides. 

Richie fumed, his voice consumed with fury as he started to yell. “Bev, did you not hear what I just fucking said? That is _exactly_ why I should blame myself. If it wasn’t for me he’d be _standing right here!_ ”

Fucking hell, Rich...

“Hey!” Ben shouted, striding over to Beverly and putting himself partially in front of her. “Richie you need to calm down, right now.” 

“Calm?!” Richie laughed wildly, shaking his head. His arms opened up at his sides again, as if begging for an explanation. “I’m _so_ fucking calm right now. It’s _you_ who all need to cal-”

“B-beep beep, Richie!” Bill snapped as he stared at his friend with a new-found horror. 

“Fuck you, Bill!” Richie snapped with a finger pointing sharply at Bill. “Don’t fucking beep me right now!”

My god.

This entire time...this entire goddamn time Eddie thought Richie was finally getting better. Only now did he realize that Richie had just gotten much better at concealing how he truly felt inside. Oblivious to the darkness stirring inside Richie’s heart, everyone passed by him without a second glance and allowed that evil to grow and fester until Richie it weight became too heavy for him to bear. It was, by far, the most horrifying thing Eddie had ever witnessed in his life. 

How the fuck did he miss it? 

Eddie flinched at Richie’s words, catching Stanley’s movements in the corner of his eye. The man moved to stand beside him, the anguish clear on his face. Stanley’s gaze was once again locked on Richie as he stared his friend down narrowed eyes and great focus. 

“Eddie didn’t _have_ to save you, Richie,” Mike said in a stern but level voice. “It was a choice.” 

“A choice that he shouldn’t have had to fucking make!” Richie fought back, chest pointedly rising and falling with a greater intensity as his breathing became more labored. He couldn’t keep still, hands trembling as he paced in the small area around him.

“B-but it _was_ a choice, in the end,” Bill countered, determined to get through to Richie, “And Eddie _chose_ to save you!” 

“Yeah? _Well maybe I didn’t deserve to be saved!_ ” Richie yelled back without hesitation, pausing for a quick moment to catch his breath, “Maybe he chose _wrong_!”

Pain. 

Indescribable pain. 

If Stanley hadn’t been there to steady him, Eddie would have collapsed onto the floor right then and there. 

“ _Richard Tozier!_ ” Beverly exclaimed furiously, stepping out from behind Ben. Her voice seemed to bounce off the walls of the room, drowning out any other sound as her stare pierced Richie deeper than any dagger. “Don’t you _dare_ say that.” 

Richie’s facade dropped for a fraction of a second out of shock, but he quickly regained his composure. Beverly _never_ used his full name. “Bev,” The man uttered with slightly less force, “I-”

“If Eddie could go back and do it all again,” Mike said, not letting Richie finish his sentence, “I think we all know that he wouldn’t change a thing, as long as it meant saving the rest of us and winning against It.” 

Richie stared back at him with his eyes widening and mouth hanging open. His hands shook as he blinked, more tears spilling over. “Don’t,” Richie warned, his fury once again gaining traction in his voice, “Don’t start with that shit!” 

Eddie, almost certain his entire body was shaking, made his way over to stand directly in front of Richie. He placed a hand on either of his shoulders, agony erupting from inside him as he saw Richie’s pained expression from up close. “He’s right, Rich…” Eddie uttered quietly between his softening cries, “I’d do it all again if it meant saving you.” 

“We know how m-much you miss him, Richie,” Bill said, actively trying to soften the tone of his voice. 

Richie laughed again, much louder this time, that familiar crazed expression crawling its way back onto his face. This wasn’t the Richie he knew. No, this was something else inside of him. Something wickedly dark that’d never broken its way to the surface until this very moment. 

“W-what the hell is so f-funny about that, Tozier?!” Bill snapped, immediately losing his temper at Richie’s reaction. 

“What’s funny?” Richie smiled widely, raising his eyebrows and leaning forward. “Just how you all seem to think you understand _exactly_ how the fuck I’m feeling!” 

“Richie,” Beverly gasped, a hurt expression overtaking her face. “We miss Eddie, too.” 

“No...no, no!” Richie shook his head, raising a finger as he started to angrily pace again. “You don’t get it! _None_ of you get it!” 

What the fuck? 

“Rich,” Eddie breathed, his disorientation from the constant blows to his heart taking its toll, “what…” 

“W-w-why wouldn’t we understand?” Bill asked, puzzled. “Eddie was _our_ friend t-too, Richie.” 

Richie’s patience had grown thin. Eddie could tell by the way he flexed his hands, how sweat dripped down from his forehead, how his breaths came out in forced huffs. Whatever had spent so long festering inside him was ready to burst forth and unleash its terror if the others didn’t back off soon. 

“Because it was fucking _different_ for me, okay Bill?!” Richie shouted, the others jumping back at the sudden brutality in his voice. “You may think you can, but not a single one of you could even _begin_ to fathom what I’m fucking going through right now!” 

“Then help us understand, Richie!” Ben pleaded, raising the volume of his voice to better meet Richie’s. 

“Oh no, Ben...you, you specifically, can _shut the fuck up_!” Richie bellowed, pointing a finger at Ben when the man tried to take a step closer. 

“Richie, what-” Ben started, eyes wide as if he’d been injured. 

“Ben, you will _never_ understand what it’s like...” Richie snapped as Eddie watched in horror from behind him. “...because you got to have your _goddamn happy ending with Beverly!_ ” 

Confusion flashed on Ben’s face. “Richie what does that have to do with this?” 

Eddie could see the exact moment Richie snapped. The moment when the fire in his eyes spread through his entire body, consuming him and every bit of his self-control with it. It was too late to do anything now except watch the chaos unfold. Eddie held his breath in fear.

“ _Because you didn’t have to watch the love of your fucking life die in your arms!_ ” Richie screamed. 

Silence. 

Inconceivable quiet. 

An inescapable onslaught of emotion that swarmed Eddie’s head, obliterating every thought, every sense, every notion…

Until nothing remained.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Anger - Sleeping at Last 
> 
> Like wildfire  
> It starts in my chest  
> The silence grows louder  
> Ringing out in my head  
> I feel the Earth shaking under my feet  
> I feel the pressure building until I can't breathe  
> And it takes everything  
> And it spills out  
> Reckless but honest words leave out my mouth  
> Like kerosene on a flame of doubt  
> I couldn't make it right  
> Alarms will sound  
> But it's too late for holy water now  
> Sooner or later the fire dies down  
> I'll open up my eyes  
> And I'll try and find the image of God  
> In mountains made of ash and clouds of smoke  
> It's fight or flight  
> Buried in my mind  
> It's fight or flight  
> It keeps my mind cold  
> But I feel it break  
> With just one misstep down a fire escape  
> And suddenly I'm someone that prays  
> A last minute man of faith  
> But I'll leave behind miles and miles of jagged lines  
> Upon the surface of the Divine  
> I wish I could set them straight  
> Till it all spills out  
> Reckless but honest words leave out my mouth  
> Like kerosene on a flame of doubt  
> I just couldn't make it right  
> Alarms will sound  
> But it's too late for holy water now  
> Sooner or later the fire dies down  
> I'll open up my eyes again


	9. You

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: HOMOPHOBIC SLURS (MULTIPLE), INTERNALIZED HOMOPHOBIA

_Ben, you will never understand what it’s like...because you got to have your goddamn happy ending with Beverly!_

The world outside was dark, like a void that swallowed Eddie’s reflection when he caught a glimpse of himself in the window. Sunset was hours ago, yet Eddie suddenly felt like the sun had him gripped at the throat, a fire cascading down his body that made it difficult to breathe. 

_Richie, what does that have to do with this?_

Eddie swayed on his feet, shuffling backwards and tripping over his own feet. He stumbled right into Stanley, who wordlessly propped him back up on his feet. Eddie whipped his head around to face him, only to be met with a devastated gaze. No amount of shock could be seen on his face. 

Only pity. 

“ _Because you didn’t have to watch the love of your fucking life die in your arms!_ ” Richie screamed. His breaths were ragged, his shoulders rising and falling unevenly. Wild eyes darting from one Loser to the next in rapid succession, Richie examined their paralyzed faces.

Knees giving way, Eddie slowly slid out of Stanley’s grasp and to the floor. The lower he sank, the harder it was to breathe, to hear, to see. World spinning, Eddie raised his shaking hands to either side of his head and pressed down, hard. Only Richie’s voice kept him from slipping into the dark abyss of his mind entirely. Nobody found the courage to speak, all of them gazing at Richie with the same insufferable stare. Richie flinched under the weight of their gaze and averted his eyes elsewhere. 

“What?” Richie snorted, plastering a large, forced smile across his face to mask the misery lurking just beneath the surface. “Not what you expected?” 

“Richie…” Beverly breathed, her voice aghast and no louder than a whisper as fresh tears spilled from her eyes. Something was different when she spoke this time, though. The was a new tenderness to her speech hidden beneath the misery. 

Richie ignored her. 

“I know what you’re probably thinking,” Richie added, huffing another laugh as his eyes grew glassy. Even through his tears, Eddie could see him struggling to hold his smile. “Richie ‘I fucked your mom’ Tozier, a flaming homosexual?! Impossible, right?!”

“We don’t-” Mike started, his voice suddenly as gentle as Beverly’s.

“Remember how Bowers used to call me a fucking fairy, or how the girls at school would write that I sucked flamer cock on the girls bathroom stall?!” Richie prodded, eyebrows raised in expectation as he met each Loser’s gaze. “Turns out those assholes knew even before _I_ fucking did! All of that internalized homophobia and constant fear of rejection probably didn’t help with that much, huh?!” 

“Richie, w-will you please-” Bill tried to speak. He’d sat back down on the couch, eyes unfocused as he talked. 

“-Tell you what the absolute _worst_ part of it all was? Sure thing, Billiam,” Richie said pointedly, visibly flinching when a single tear escaped the corner of his eye and cascaded down his flushed face. Using what little strength he could muster, Eddie forced himself to stand. He took a few steps closer towards Richie, taking in the pure agony that ripped across his face as he spoke. It was plain to see that Richie was losing his own battle, and he was pretty certain Richie knew it, too. A new pain blossomed in Eddie’s heart at the sight. 

A numbing, irrevocable pain. 

A pain he knew was there but couldn’t feel, an entity threatening to tear him apart from the inside if he showed one second of weakness. 

“It was him from the start,” Richie uttered as he finally let his forced smile fade from his face. His expression fell into a deep, mournful longing that felt like a punch in Eddie’s gut. Richie’s voice grew so much quieter when he spoke of him, like someone had flipped a switch in his mind. “It was still Eddie, even after all those years when I...forgot he existed. It was _always_ him.” 

“That whole time?” Eddie breathed. He shook his head in disbelief, his mind desperately trying to sift through the surges of memories that suddenly came flooding in at Richie’s words. This was too much, far too much at once to comprehend.

Ben saw the change in Richie’s expression, noticed how his shoulders slumped and head hung low. He took a hesitant step forward, raising his hands in front of him. “Richie, listen-” 

Richie continued to ignore everyone else, as if looking them in the eye would make everything fall apart. His voice cracked when he finally poured out his heart and confessed to the gnawing secret he’d been harboring inside him for so, so long. “I was in love with my best friend for thirty goddamn years.” 

When he was young, Eddie would gaze at the night sky and see stars strewn against an infinite sea of black. The universe was endless, yet here he was living in it, nothing but a fraction of its expanse. It made him feel so small. But in this moment, whatever laid beyond this room had vanished, ceasing to exist as Eddie’s world closed in around him.

Thirty years. 

Thirty goddamn years. 

“...And now he’s dead,” Richie forced out, putting in one last ditch effort to keep it together. Seeing the heartbroken expressions from the other Losers, however, broke him within seconds. 

“Fuck,” Richie cursed to himself. “FUCK!” More tears streamed down his face, hands clenching and unclenching at his sides as he started to pace again. “I watched him die right in front of me. Eddie saved me when I screwed up and _he_ had to pay the fucking price for it!” 

How the fuck could this be happening?

It didn’t matter how many times Richie said it, or how he phrased it. Those words struck Eddie like a bullet every time, piercing his chest and digging its way to his heart. The room spun around him and nearly sent him tumbling to the ground once again, but the shock of it all left him frozen in place where he stood, trembling. Beverly made another move towards Richie, eyes watering when he pointedly flinched away from the gesture. 

“Don’t,” Richie choked. He backed away from the group with his arms folded tightly in front of him as if actively trying to avoid physical contact with the others. As if they’d sear his skin if they so much as grasped his hand. Only Eddie seemed to notice the pure fright that glistened in his eyes. 

“Richie, honey...” Beverly cried in a high voice. Richie shook his head at her, backing into the wall with an abrupt thud. Wet tears streaked the lenses of his cracked glasses. But Beverly didn’t stop, cautiously reaching up to graze her fingers lightly over Richie’s upper arm. 

“Don’t fucking touch me!” Richie snapped harshly, jerking to the side like he’d just been burned. He slipped past Beverly and away from the wall as his arms quickly shot up to wrap around his chest in an awkward fashion. Eyes falling shut, Richie took a few deep breaths as if contemplating something. “Nope! No,” He resolved to himself moments later, throwing his arms up in the air in defeat. “I can’t fucking do this right now...this was a mistake...” 

Without another word, Richie spun on his heel and strode out of the room and towards the foyer. The room fell in a stunned silence as the creaking sound of the front door could be heard, followed by a loud slam. 

“Richie!” Ben called after the man, starting to walk in the same direction. Bill’s firm grasp on his arm stopped him. Their eyes met, and all Bill could offer was a somber shake of his head. Eddie froze where he stood, eyes wide as he and the others stared at the place where Richie’s figure disappeared around the corner. Still caught in a haze, he couldn’t hear Stanley’s voice until the man was right in front of him, almost yelling. 

“Go,” Stanley ordered, his lucid stare strengthening in intensity. It was the first word he’d spoken since the letter. With a sense of urgency, Stanley pointed in the direction Richie left, eyes growing wider. “Go, Eddie!” 

The roar of an engine outside pulled Eddie back to reality. He shot a nervous and questioning look at Stanley as he turned and made his way towards the front door. Stanley stared back, his expression unreadable. 

With no time to even think about what he was doing, Eddie swung the front door open and quickly stepped outside. He spotted Richie’s bright red rental car almost immediately and started towards it. Running, Eddie felt the light pressure of the night breeze against his bare face. It was steadying, almost refreshing, after being nearly suffocated with his own thoughts in that front room. Eddie slipped into Richie’s car just as he put the vehicle in reverse. They jerked backwards harshly, Eddie instinctively reaching for one of the handles at his side. Eddie even tried to put a seatbelt on, but stopped once he remembered that he was already dead and no longer needed it. 

Eddie was dead. 

Richie was alive. 

And Richie was in love with him…

 _What the fuck?_ Eddie found himself sitting quietly, the entity that nestled inside him numbing him from the shock of it all. He couldn’t even bring himself to glance over at Richie, who said nothing as he sped down the deserted, twisting back roads nearby. 

But that silence, Eddie quickly learned, would soon be his downfall. The loudest thoughts only ever came when the world fell silent around him. Something shifted deep down in Eddie’s core, throwing him off balance in his seat. He closed his eyes and pictured Richie’s face as he tried to regain his composure and process everything he’d just witnessed. This man, someone he’d known and then forgotten after such a long time...loved him. Eddie shivered as the sensation whirled inside him. 

But what the _fuck_ did this all mean?

_Richie ‘I fucked your mom’ Tozier, a flaming homosexual?! Impossible, right?!_

How did he miss it? 

Heart pounding with the force of a hurricane, Eddie squeezed his eyes shut tightly. His hands clenched at his sides as more and more memories resurfaced in his mind. Memories that were so deep, so repressed, that Eddie had forgotten they existed. But Richie’s words effortlessly brought them all back. 

Eddie saw the hammock. 

The one they all shared in the Clubhouse. It was “technically” everyone’s, but Eddie and Richie spent more time in it than anyone else...usually at the same time. They’d spend hours down there, reading comics and telling stories and bickering over the stupidest fucking shit. And the truth was, when Eddie thought of Derry and his childhood home, he never really thought of his actual house. There wasn’t much there he wanted to remember. Instead, only images of the Clubhouse ever came to mind, where his memories were fonder, brighter, and more fulfilling. It was a place where he laughed _more_ , smiled _more_... _loved more_. 

Eddie saw Richie’s face. 

He’d visit sometimes after the sun had gone down, on the days his mother wouldn’t let him go out and play. Richie would peer into the window, hands cupped around his face, making goofy faces until Eddie chuckled and let him inside. They’d stay up well into the night, wrapped up in blankets while propped in Eddie’s windowsill. With Eddie’s mother sleeping just down the hall, they spoke in hushed voices, whispering forgotten secrets into the dark. 

Eddie remembered looking into Richie’s eyes through the moonlit room and feeling pure comfort. He remembered falling asleep next to Richie, his head sometimes falling over onto his shoulder as they slept. He remembered that, on the days he’d cry alone in his room, Richie was there for him to provide a welcoming sense of security. 

They formed a trust that Eddie never shared with any other Loser. 

The bond they had was unparalleled. 

Eddie’s heart picked up at the memory, surging in his chest. A nervous feeling suddenly swelled at the base of his stomach when he noticed. Keeping his eyes shut, he focused on the smooth turns of Richie’s car as he drove on. He sucked in a deep breath through his nose, pausing for a few moments before releasing it out of his mouth. 

_Remember how Bowers used to call me a fucking fairy?_

Yeah, he did. 

And Richie wasn’t the only one, either. 

Eddie saw flashes of himself walking down the hallway at school, catching Bowers from the corner of his eye calling another boy by those awful slurs. Even if it was a kid Eddie hadn’t met, hearing the words leave Bowers’ mouth made him furious. They would make his stomach drop, his back shiver, and his hands tremble. It always bothered him greatly, even if he never fully understood why.

And when it was with Richie? 

The others had to hold Eddie back at times. 

Eddie remembered the day his mother called Richie the same, telling Eddie to stay far away from his friend because of what was _wrong_ with him. He remembered telling his mother off, shouting that she didn’t know what she was talking about. He remembered locking himself in his room, bawling into his pillow for hours afterwards. And then there were the days when his mother spoke of AIDS. He’d overhear her on the phone sometimes, talking to her friends in a hushed voice, about someone they knew in New York who got infected. Eddie would hear her say such terrible, horrifying things. Then he’d hear her mention homosexuals. 

As a child, Eddie thought his mother knew everything, that she kept Eddie safe. Eddie never knew why her talks on the phone scared him so much, not when he was a kid. He’d hear those words and run back to his room to hide under his covers. But it didn’t matter, though, because Eddie wasn’t gay. And as long as he wasn’t gay, then he wouldn’t be dirty, and he wouldn’t get infected. Just like his mother had said. 

_It was Eddie, even after all those years when I...forgot he existed. It was always him._

How the _fuck_ did he miss it? 

All of those stolen glances, unfinished sentences, crumpled-up notes that never got passed in class...that didn’t…that _couldn’t_ mean anything, right? 

Fuck, why was he getting so anxious? 

Sucking in a deep breath, Eddie mustered up the courage to turn and glance over at Richie. The man had his eyes on the road ahead of him, one hand on the steering wheel and the other resting on his thigh. His eyes were glazed over, as if he drove in a trance controlled by someone else. 

And then Richie turned his head towards the passenger seat. For the shortest moment, it appeared as though Richie looked him right in the eye before turning away again. Eddie’s heart jumped, beating excitedly in his chest at the sensation. He didn’t care if it wasn’t real, if Richie couldn’t really see him. To Eddie, solely in that moment, it was all real. It had to be, for his sake. Eddie gasped at the sight of Richie glancing over again, quickly succumbing to another powerful surge of memories from the past. 

Eddie remembered the drives. 

Richie was one of the first Losers to get their license in high school. And just as they had both grown over the years, their nighttime visits quickly shaped into secret late-night drives. Eddie would wait by his bedroom window, peering down the street in search of Richie’s headlights. He’d climb down when Richie flashed his lights, quickly jogging through his yard and hopping into the passenger seat. 

On most nights, they’d blast the radio on full volume, windows rolled down as Richie raced down dark, deserted roads. Richie sang along to almost every song with great theatrics to go along with each, and it was always an acceptably impressive feat when he managed to get Eddie to sing along with him. Eddie loved those drives, but the silent nights were always his favorites. He remembered how Richie would cruise at a much slower speed so that Eddie could rest his head partially out the window. He remembered how they’d forgo the radio in preference of listening to the tires’ roll against the rocky pavement. He remembered staring at Richie, the light of the moon illuminating his face, his own heart fluttering when Richie caught him and smiled. 

Eddie remembered feeling the same way he did now with Richie, right in this moment. But things were different now. The moon was shrouded by the clouds tonight, and Richie no longer smiled. 

_I was in love with my best friend for thirty goddamn years._

Eddie remembered coming back to Derry.

He remembered the strange rush that swept through him when he turned and saw Richie standing behind him. He remembered the jump of his heart when their eyes met, memories of who Richie was to him all starting to flood back. He remembered all the bickering and playful digs, relishing in their ability to pick up right where they left off as kids. It was like only a day had passed, and not over twenty long years of ignorant isolation. 

Eddie remembered what Richie said to him. 

_Eddie wait, you’re married? To what, like...a woman?_

He remembered how his stomach twisted at the remark, how Richie’s smile didn’t match the nervous glint he wore in his eyes. He remembered the strange pang of fright that seemed to materialize out of nowhere. Eddie had brushed it off at the time, but now that small, pointless detail all but consumed him. It tore away at the barrier in his mind, setting everything free. 

Eddie remembered the day after their final fight, seeing the way Ben smiled at Beverly under the tree outside. He remembered the exact moment he realized his marriage had been forged out of fear rather than real, genuine love. How his feelings towards Myra were so greatly overshadowed by his affection for his friends...for Richie. He remembered Richie gingerly taking his hand and telling Eddie he was strong when he felt weak. That Eddie was braver than he thought he was. He remembered when a new-found courage rippled through him, growing like crashing waves as he fought against the clown. 

A courage that was always there, but one that Eddie couldn’t see until Richie showed him how. 

Eddie remembered the pain that ripped through his chest when he found real love with the friends he’d forgotten. His own steadfast...dysfunctional...warm-hearted...immaculate family. People he loved more than anything else in the entire world. He remembered Richie’s horrified face when Eddie was impaled in the cistern. 

_Richie...Richie?_

The way Richie cried out Eddie’s name. 

_...Eddie-_

His voice was so weak. 

So broken. 

Eddie remembered the way Richie clung to him so tightly, desperately trying to staunch the excessive flow of blood from his abdomen. The way Richie looked at him with eyes that had a million things to say. How he looked so afraid to say them. And then Eddie fell to darkness, and all of those things were left unsaid, never to be heard. Now Eddie knew it all. 

But what the hell did all of this mean?

Why was Eddie so frightened?

It shouldn’t matter. 

He was dead. 

_Because you didn’t have to watch the love of your fucking life die in your arms!_

Eddie glanced over towards the driver’s seat, the man occupying it nothing but a disheveled, broken shell of a person. His eyes...they were so, so tired. No longer with a purpose or a drive. 

They were empty. 

If Eddie was dead, and if none of this truly mattered, then why the _fuck_ did this hurt so much? 

It was a sensation Eddie had never experienced before. Looking at someone else and watching the rest of the world fall away into the stillness of space. But the darkness didn’t matter, not when this someone was beside him, for they were like starlight. An unconscious gravitation towards a beacon that Eddie knew was always there, but was only beginning to see for the first time. 

Like the sun. 

An everlasting flame that was now snuffed out. 

In death, Eddie felt no warmth on his skin. He longed for it, so intensely, every damn time the sun’s light would break through the treetops of this cursed town. He’d wait for the rays to strike his skin, eyes empty as the same cold sensation of dead held its tight grasp on him. 

Eddie never noticed that warmth before he died. 

Not when he was a kid, not after he’d grown up…

Not with Myra. 

But now, as Eddie outstretched a hesitant hand, the tips of his fingers dancing along Richie’s cheek...he felt nothing. 

He felt no heat. 

No warmth. 

No life. 

Eddie recoiled when Richie shifted, pressing his foot down hard on the brakes. The vehicle gradually rolled to a halt. Neither of them moved, Eddie staring anxiously at Richie as he clutched the steering wheel tightly with both hands. A shuddering breath fell from Richie’s mouth before he threw the car door open and leapt outside. Stumbling out of the car, Eddie tripped over his feet as he tried to catch up with Richie’s fast pace. He recognized where they were in seconds and frowned. 

The kissing bridge? 

Trailing behind Richie, Eddie stared at the names and initials carved into the railing. Even in the moonlight, he could differentiate between the newer, fresher carvings and the older, more worn marks. Distracted by the names, Eddie almost missed Richie’s sudden stop at the corner of his vision. Without pause, Richie knelt in front of the railing, eyes locked on a specific spot. His hand gently glided over something carved into the wood as if it were the most delicate object to exist. Eddie stepped closer, eyes straining to make out the letters shrouded by Richie’s shadow. But then, when Richie shifted to the side, moonlight struck the letters he’d traced and Eddie’s world crashed down around him. 

There, weather-torn and partially faded, were the letters “R + E.” 

Eddie sank to his knees beside Richie, hand clasped over his mouth as those two letters struck him like a train. Everything Richie said tonight, every memory that clawed its way back to the light in Eddie’s mind...all of it was true. This wasn’t some imaginary figment, or some forgotten dream. 

It was real. 

Richie Tozier was in love with him, and had been for over twenty-seven years. 

Shoving his hand into his pocket, Richie slid out a pocket knife and flipped it open. He then braced his free hand on the railing and dragged the blade across the worn carvings. Chips of wood plummeted to his feet as he worked its way through each mark. Eddie watched, his body feeling so heavy under the weight of what Richie once held secret. Minutes passed before Richie leaned back, a somber smile on his face as he stared at his handiwork. The new carvings were cleaner, with edges more defined and clear-cut. Eddie stared at the railing, seeing his and Richie’s refurbished marks under the shine of the moonlight. He felt his cheeks turned pink at the sight. 

R + E. 

“Uh,” Richie said, flipping his pocket knife shut and putting it away. He shifted positions so that he sat cross-legged in front of his and Eddie’s initials. “Hi, Eddie.” 

Eddie let his body fall to the side so he could lean his right shoulder and head against the railing of the bridge. He stared back at Richie with eyes of despair. “Hi, Rich,” He whispered, his voice empty with the knowledge that Richie would never truly hear him again. 

“Everyone else knows now,” Richie sighed, nervously shooting his hand up to adjust his glasses, “I told them. And it’s not fair if I don’t tell you too...out loud. Just...j-just the two of us.” 

Clenching his hands, Eddie tried to prepare himself for what he _knew_ was about to come. But no measure of preparation could have made him ready for the weakness and vulnerability in Richie’s voice as he spoke. 

“I love you, Eddie Spaghetti.” 

Agony. 

An internal strife that raged inside Eddie’s heart, threatening to rip his entire being to shreds from the inside-out. 

_If Eddie was dead, and if none of this truly mattered, then why the fuck did this hurt so much?_

“Rich,” Eddie choked, his remorse, apprehension, and confliction all amassing at once in his throat. It hurt to speak. “...I-”

“I realized I loved you that summer, that day you almost died,” Richie muttered, fiddling with his hands in his lap. His voice was so tender, so open and sure. Nothing like how it sounded back at the Townhouse in front of the other Losers. Right now, it was just Richie and Eddie. Nobody else. “There was a moment when...I thought It got you. That I’d never see you again. And the thought ate me up inside and it wouldn’t go away. Still hasn’t, Eds.” 

“Don’t call me Eds,” Eddie breathed, purely out of instinctual habit. “You know I-” 

“It was you from the start,” Richie said, breath hitching, “It was always you, and...it will _always_ be you.”

Eddie’s heart jumped, bounding back and forth in his chest as he heard the words. A rush of calm came over him, relieving him of his anxieties even if just for a few short moments. It felt like a gentle breeze against his face, bringing forth an unfamiliar clarity. He welcomed the sensation with a small sigh of comfort. 

_If Eddie was dead, and if none of this truly mattered, then why the fuck did he feel more lucid, more awake than he ever did when he was alive?_

Eddie outstretched a hand, fingers hovering just above Richie’s grief-stricken face. With every inch closer to Richie, Eddie senses spiked. It felt like a dream, a beautiful, lucid, vivid dream that he wanted to settle in forever. Despite the dark, quiet night surround them, Eddie could see more, hear more. 

Feel more. 

Moving closer, Eddie gingerly placed his hand on the side of Richie’s face. 

_You stay far away from that boy, Eddie._

Eddie yelped, stumbling away and landing on his back. Breathing hard, he stared back at Richie, his panicked mind enveloped by his mother’s deafening voice. It was so _loud_ , like she was truly standing right behind Eddie as she yelled into his ears. “Stop it,” Eddie outright hissed, eyes tightly shut as he brought his hands to either side of his head. 

“I wanted to confess everything, you know, when all of this was over,” Richie admitted softly, his voice strained as he stood back on his feet. “When we won, together.” 

Gut clenching, Eddie fumbled to get on his feet. He reached out for Richie again, tears spilling from the corners of his eyes. His hand hovered just above the man’s flushed cheeks. 

“I wanted to drive you here,” Richie breathed through clenched teeth, his eyes never leaving the carving on the railing. “To prove how much you meant to me.” 

_He’s one of those fairies._

“SHUT UP!” Eddie snapped, cringing as he retracted his outstretched arm and threw his hands aggressively down at his sides. 

“You were supposed to _live_ , Eddie!” Richie exclaimed, a helpless, ragged sigh escaping his mouth. Those words hurt more than a knife to the heart. 

_I told you about my friend in New York, the one who got AIDS._

“We were supposed to live happy lives when this was all over!” Richie yelled, voice growing louder. He started pacing again, just like he had back at the Townhouse. 

“SHUT THE FUCK UP!” Eddie shrieked, not even sure who he was yelling at anymore. 

“I thought this was our chance, Eds,” Richie said in a moment of weakness, rage consuming him immediately after. “We could’ve made up for all the time we lost, if it wasn’t for me.” 

_Take your medication, Eddie-bear. You don’t want to get an infection, do you?_

“If it wasn’t for that _fucking clown!_ ”

“SHUT UP, SHUT UP, SHUT UP!” Eddie screamed with a ragged voice, throat burning with pain. 

_If Eddie was dead, and if none of this truly mattered, then why the fuck did he feel such raw, incomparable agony?_

“You fucking piece of _shit!_ ” Richie screeched at the fence, a finger pointed directly above the carving of their initials. “You stupid fucking _clown!_ ” 

“Please…” Eddie sobbed, making no effort to hold back his cries. He wrapped his arms tightly around his torso and leaned forward slightly, as if his wound had suddenly re-opened. His energy was spent. “Stop it…” 

“I guess you got the last laugh, asshole, cause you ruined my entire goddamn _life!_ ” Richie snapped, voice trembling with fury. “You made me forget them all, you made me spend over half of my life _alone!_ ” 

Richie started to weep. 

“You took away Stan,” Richie all but snarled through his tears, his voice sinister. “You took away Eddie. You took away one of my best friends and the love of my stupid, meaningless life!”

Those words were torment. 

“Richie-” Eddie cried out, reaching a hand in his direction. He flinched on instinct, pulling it back towards himself. 

“I HATE YOU!” Richie screamed at the top of his lungs, head pointed up towards the sky. He lurched forward and kicked the railing with all the force he could muster. 

“Please st-”

“I FUCKING HATE YOU!”

Another kick. 

“Richie, _stop-_ ” 

“STUPID PIECE OF SHIT!”

Another kick. 

“Richie that’s ENOUGH!” 

“FUCK YOU, FUCK YOU, FUCK YOU!” 

Another kick. Then another. And another. 

“RICHIE STOP!” 

“FUCK-” Richie slipped, his foot catching on something concealed by the grass, “Shit!” The man bent down and grabbed the object in one fluid movement. Standing up straight, Richie fumbled with the abandoned glass bottle in his trembling hands. He let out a choked cry as he tightened his grip on the top of the bottle... 

...And shattered it against the railing with the swing of his arm. 

Glass shards flew in every direction, Eddie crying out when Richie hissed and abruptly dropped the jagged top back into the grass. He pulled his hand tightly into his chest, looking down as he sucked in ragged breaths. “Ouch,” Richie said with a sucked breath through clenched teeth, flexing his hand and causing blood to drip onto the bridge. “Dammit.” 

“Fucking hell, Richie!” Eddie hovered over Richie, getting as close as he could without touching the man. Their arms brushed accidentally and Eddie unconsciously flinched back. 

Shrugging off his jacket, Richie sloppily wrapped the article of clothing around his hand and arm as tightly as he could. He paused for a brief moment, glancing back over his shoulder at the ‘R + E’ he’d re-carved. So many expressions flashed across his face as he did, the irrevocable emptiness in his eyes remaining prominent. “I’m, uh,” Richie said under his breath, “I’m sorry, Eddie...for everything.” 

Eddie shook his head, determined to not let the tears fall again. He shuddered. Forcing down the overwhelming anxieties from the bridge, Eddie got into the car and curled into a ball. He let his head fall onto his knees as Richie started the car and peeled away.

Eddie didn’t remember the car ride back to the Townhouse. 

He remembered the kissing bridge. He remembered Richie re-carving their initials onto its railing before pouring his heart out to the man he thought wasn’t there. The man who stood right beside him. He remembered his mother’s voice, pounding into his mind like a hammer to a nail and wringing out the same fears she instilled in him as a child. He remembered how much he _felt_ when he touched Richie’s face. He remembered how much he hurt. 

_If Eddie was dead, and if none of this truly mattered, then why the hell was everything so fucked?_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You - Keaton Henson
> 
> If you must wait,  
> Wait for them here in my arms as I shake  
> If you must weep,  
> Do it right here in my bed as I sleep  
> If you must mourn, my love  
> Mourn with the moon and the stars up above  
> If you must mourn,  
> Don't do it alone
> 
> If you must leave,  
> Leave as though fire burns under your feet  
> If you must speak,  
> Speak every word as though it were unique  
> If you must die, sweetheart  
> Die knowing your life was my life's best part  
> If you must die,  
> Remember your life
> 
> You are  
> You are  
> Oh, you are  
> You are  
> Oh
> 
> If you must fight,  
> Fight with yourself and your thoughts in the night  
> If you must work,  
> Work to leave some part of you on this earth  
> If you must live, darling one,
> 
> Just live  
> Just live  
> Just live


	10. Land of the Living

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: HOMOPHOBIC SLUR (ONE), INTERNALIZED HOMOPHOBIA

There would be no life without the sun. 

Without its protective cradle of warm light, this world would be nothing but a frigid, empty field of stone. A lone planet adrift in the boundless cusp of eternity. Banished with a fate of inescapable exile without any hope of return. Eddie understood that now, as he spiraled down the bitter-cold chasm of his demise. He fell without guidance, without direction, drifting farther and farther away from the tethers that held him to the illusion of life. He clung to those bounds with every bit of strength he had, desperately to hang on to those he cared for most. 

To the Losers. 

To Richie. 

Eddie eyed Richie from the passenger seat of the car as they pulled into the familiar parking lot of the Townhouse. Whether he meant to or not, Eddie tethered himself to Richie with such tight bonds that he couldn’t fathom the thought of separation.

_You stay far away from that boy, Eddie._

Eddie cringed to himself, cursing as another one of his tethers snapped in half. 

The sun had grown colder with every day that passed, and Eddie could feel his sense of life fleeting from his chilled body. Even as he stared at Richie, just a few mere feet away, it didn’t feel like he was really there. It felt like just another figment, a dream that would drift away at any given moment. 

What Eddie wouldn’t give to feel the warmth of Richie’s hand on his own. 

_There was a moment when...I thought It got you. That I’d never see you again. And the thought ate me up inside and it wouldn’t go away. Still hasn’t, Eds._

Eddie shivered, a rush of grief coursing through him as a dark reminder of what could never be. And there was no greater pain than knowing he could never live the lives Richie dreamt for them all. A life full of happiness, contentment, and rest. 

Not even the pain from a claw piercing through Eddie’s abdomen could compare to the heartbreak Eddie felt, or to the pain that struck his chest when he could see the same sorrowful thoughts in Richie’s eyes. Thoughts of Eddie, his body forever sealed in a tomb, condemned to a fate in which nobody knew his true end. A fate in which he’ll be forgotten by those who search for but will never find him. 

Nothing hurt more than seeing Richie’s eyes so flooded with torment. 

Nothing. 

Eddie’s world became a muffled blur as he trailed behind Richie in the darkness. He walked when Richie walked, stopped when Richie stopped. As he stepped inside, it felt like someone else was controlling his body’s movements for him. It was a strange sensation, yet at the same time Eddie couldn’t conjure the strength the question it. 

_I’m sorry, Eddie...for everything._

He was so tired. 

“Richie?! Is that you?” Eddie heard from a distant-sounding voice. He thought it could belong to Beverly, and was proven right when he saw a flash of red hair as an obscured figure approached them. “We were so worried-” 

“Well, I’m back-” 

“Wait, is that...blood? Richie, what-” 

“It’s nothing-” 

“ _You guys, get down here!_ Richie’s hurt!” 

A thundering sound of footsteps shot down the hall as the rest of the Losers filed down the stairs. They raced over, their faces blending together as Eddie stared at them with dazed eyes. 

“Richie, where the hell d-did you go?!” 

“What happened?!” 

“I’m so glad you’re okay, Richie.” 

“Guys, it’s nothing, I’m fine-” 

Eddie felt himself moving, an unknown force pulling him into the front room, slowly becoming more aware of his surroundings. He was relieved they came back to the Townhouse, Eddie fearing that if he’d stayed outside in that black void it would’ve swallowed him whole. His feet dragged across the floor beneath him and blindly gravitated towards the other voices. 

He was so goddamn tired. 

Eddie somehow managed to make his way over to the windowsill and slide into onto its ledge. He curled up against the wall, arms around his knees and his head facing towards the window. Any closer to the others, and Eddie was nearly certain he’d break. 

“Did you find a first-aid kit anywhere?” 

“Here, this was, uh...with Eddie’s stuff.” 

Eddie stared outside, unable to bring himself to look towards the others. Not even at the mention of his own name. There was the sound of a stool being dragged across the floor, glassware clinking with some kind of liquid poured in them, the clashing scrapes of metal against metal. 

“Take it off, Richie. Let me see…” 

“Jesus, Rich. What did you do?” 

“I told you, it’s nothi-...FUCK!” 

“You have to hold still.” 

“Watch it! That fucking _HURTS!_ ” 

A hissed breath followed, presumably from Richie. The sound of Richie in pain finally pulled Eddie’s fogged mind towards the scene unfolding behind him. He shifted his head, resting it on his knees as he watched the other’s movements from a distance. The haze clouding his mind had lifted a bit, dissipating and allowing him to see more clearly. Slowly becoming more alert, Eddie squinted his eyes from where he sat, struggling to see as someone as they worked feverishly over Richie’s wound. 

Red hair again. Beverly. 

Eddie studied her movements, his shoulders and head feeling so heavy as he leaned to the side slightly to catch a better glimpse. Eyes narrowing, Eddie frowned and folded his arms, “You’re doing it wrong.” Eddie turned and looked back out the window. His voice slurred as he spoke again, “You forgot hydrogen peroxide, and you can’t re-use that. You should get a new one unless you want him to an infection.” 

Beverly continued to work, taking none of Eddie’s unheard advice. She tried her best to clean the long scrapes along Richie’s hand and arm, washing them multiple times with water and alcohol. Trying to tune out the sound of Richie’s pained groans, Eddie focused his attention on the window and the dark world beyond...but Richie’s repeated hisses of yelps of pain kept pulling Eddie back.

“Dammit Rich,” He muttered before turning back to the fray once more. Eddie examined Beverly’s technique and rolled his eyes with disgust. “No, no the bandage goes on the other way!” 

The last remnants of dizziness finally started to fade when Eddie caught a glance of Richie’s face. His teeth were bared, free hand clutching his injured arm while Beverly tightly tied off her make-shift splint. The sound of a single pair of footsteps could be heard from across the room, but Eddie didn’t turn to see who they belonged to. He already knew. Their owner approached with great reluctance, each step lighter than the last against the old wooden floor. One of the floorboards creaked when the steps finally came to a stop next to the windowsill. 

“Eddie,” A cracked voice said quietly. 

Eddie didn’t answer. He glanced up to meet Stanley’s eyes, watching silently as the man slid down onto the windowsill across from him. He pulled his legs underneath himself, crossing them as he laid both hands down in his lap. 

“Eddie,” Stanley pleaded, eyes darting as he studied Eddie’s face. Based on the disturbed expression overtaking Stanley’s face, Eddie could only guess how awful he looked. “Are you alright? What happened to Richie’s hand?” 

Eyes unwavering, Eddie held Stanley with a heavy stare and remained silent. 

“Say something,” Stanley muttered, his worry evident on his face. “Please, Eddie...” 

Eddie hesitated, his eyes narrowing. His voice was empty when he finally brought himself to speak. “Did you know? Did he ever...tell you?” 

Stanley’s expression relaxed a bit when Eddie finally responded, only to be replaced with a look of remorse. “No, but…” 

“But?” Eddie asked, eyes completely empty as he glanced back up at Stanley. 

“I…” Stanley trailed off, letting out a heavy sigh as he paused for words. “I...suspected.” 

A long pause. 

“When?” Eddie asked plainly. 

Stanley lifted his shoulders with a small shrug. “I don’t know, um....high school, maybe?” 

Another pause. 

“Why?” Eddie asked in the same tone. 

“Why what?” Stanley asked, frowning a bit. He cocked his head, searching Eddie’s eyes for something seemingly important. Eddie felt the intensity of the man’s stare on him, like those ones he’d given Richie earlier that evening. He tried his best to ignore it. 

“Why did you-” Eddie started, stopping himself short to rephrase his question. “... _What_ made you suspect?” 

To Eddie’s surprise, a saddened half-smile appeared on Stanley’s face. It looked misplaced underneath his tired eyes. “Eddie,” He chuckled lightly, raising his eyebrows a bit. “Didn’t you ever notice the way he looked at you?” 

Eddie jerked back, a confused expression on his face. Why was his heart beating so quickly? Eddie stared at Stanley for a moment, studying him, just to make sure he wasn’t fucking around with him. But he wasn’t. Stanley’s expression was genuine, sincere. “...No?” 

“Or the way he’d tease you every second of every day?” Stanley asked, his expression a mix of impatience and surprise. 

“But he did that with everyone,” Eddie said, shaking his head. 

“Not like how he did with you, Eddie,” Stanley countered with a stern look. “Trust me, I was there for a majority of your _insufferable_ bickering,” Stanley said, pausing to roll his eyes at the memories. “All he ever wanted was to make you laugh. It meant a lot to him.” 

Eddie’s eyes fell shut as he exhaled a heavy sigh. He thought back to earlier that evening, to the moment leading up to when Eddie’s world started to crumble beneath his feet. “What you said in your letter,” Eddie muttered, eyes remaining shut, “Did you put that in there...for him?” 

_Be who you want to be. Be proud._

“Yeah,” Stanley nodded solemnly. “One of the first memories that came back to me the day Mike called was how Richie felt about you...or at least, how I _thought_ he felt.”

Eddie nodded, unsure of what to say. He stood when he felt a sudden rush of sentiment flow through him, his cheeks flushed red. Quickly facing away from Stanley, Eddie found the other Losers all circled around the room. They sat in silence, staring at the glow of the flame Mike had started in the fireplace. Mike sat on a stool he pulled away from the bar, with Ben off to his side in one of the cushioned chairs and Bill in the adjacent seat. Beverly at the far edge of the couch across from them. It was quiet as Eddie strode forward to spot Richie spread across the couch and encased in a blanket. His cleaned and bandaged arm rested just in front of his head, which currently rested in Beverly’s lap. 

Beverly had one arm wrapped around Richie’s shoulder, the other gingerly stroking his hair. Without thought, Eddie found himself kneeling in front of the couch, sitting back on top of his feet so he was eye-level with Richie. The man before him looked like a child again, bundled up tightly like he used to when he caught a cold. Eddie stared deeply into Richie’s eyes, Richie peering back at nothing. He reached a hand up above the couch cushion, making to grab Richie’s hand. 

_He’s one of those fairies._

With a subconscious flinch, Eddie stopped short, his fingers hovering just inches away from Richie’s. He cowered at the voice in his head, trembling as it held its dominion over him. His hand retracted inch by inch until it slid off the couch and back down to Eddie’s side. None of that mattered anyways, right? Eddie wasn’t gay. And as long as he wasn’t gay, then he wouldn’t be dirty and he wouldn’t get infected. It was the same notion his mother so often drove into his mind as a child. An inclination that rooted itself so deeply in Eddie’s brain that he hadn’t even realized it was there until this moment.

“Get the _fuck_ out of my head,” Eddie snapped in a low voice. He felt Stanley’s confused stare burning into him, but he paid it no mind as he forced the voices out of his thoughts and sealed them off. His hands shook, trembling with a mix between rage and regret. 

The group sat in silence for a long time. 

And, to Eddie’s relief, the voices had gone quiet as well. 

It wasn’t an uncomfortable silence, though. Not like the ones they had before. This one felt lighter, like the tension had finally been broken and they could feel more at ease. The only sound that filled the room was the loud crackles and pops from the fire before them. “I thought about telling him, you know, when this was all over,” Richie muttered after some time, staring blankly at the floor. “I wanted to tell him everything.” 

Nobody spoke, afraid to do so in fear of setting off Richie again. Eddie, however, braced himself for the impact of Richie’s oncoming onslaught. He knew what was coming, he heard it all on the kissing bridge. And now he had to bear it again for the second time tonight. Eddie’s hands trembled with a frightened anticipation. 

“But then Eddie just had to go and fucking die on me, huh?” Richie huffed, a few tears streaking down his face. “As soon as I got him back...after all those years...that _fuckface_ took him away from me.” 

A familiar rage surged through Eddie, but he was prepared for it this time. He focused on his breathing as he listened. 

In and then out. 

In and then out. 

As he calmed himself down, Eddie scanned the room, studying the expressions on everyone else's faces. What he wasn’t prepared for was the looks of such raw affliction and dejection in their expressions. It was worse than a punch to the gut. For the first time, everyone else looked just as helpless as Eddie felt. “Even after all those years apart, even after I’d completely forgotten about Derry,” Richie said, shifting to re-adjust his head and shoulders on Beverly’s lap. “It felt like there was something missing. For years, I never knew what it was. Not until I came back and saw him for the first time. Then, everything...made sense again.” 

Eddie remembered that moment on the bridge. He remembered his hand outstretched towards Richie’s face. He remembered the dream-like sensation of being so close to him. He remembered that, despite the darkness around them, the closer Eddie got to Richie...the more he could hear. The more he could see. The more he could _feel_. 

His heart leapt in his chest at the memory. 

Beverly silently lifted her hand and ran her fingers back through Richie’s hair, his eyes fluttering shut as she did. Eddie caught the tension in her expression, the light that sparked in her eyes despite her stoic composure. 

She was _furious_.

Eddie knew that look all too well, from those late nights in the clubhouse when it was just him and her. _”I hate your mom!”_ She’d yell after Eddie told her whatever awful thing his mother said or did to him that day. _”I hate your dad!”_ He’d always reply, anger boiling his blood whenever Beverly admitted what he’d done to her. 

It was a fierce, protective rage. 

Beverly was angry, Eddie suspected, over Richie’s decision to wait so long to tell them the truth. It was a complicated situation, she was all too aware of that, but Richie’s fear of rejection nearly drove her to the breaking point. Eddie could see it all in her eyes. He could see how much it hurt her to know true Richie’s underlying fear...that the other Losers wouldn’t love him anymore if they found out about his dirty little secret. 

But there was no harshness in Beverly’s voice when she spoke. “Richie?” 

“Hm?” Richie hummed, slightly muffled from the blanket he’d pulled up to his chin. 

“Richie we love you _so much_ ,” Beverly whispered, brushing the hair from Richie’s face. “And nothing will ever, _ever_ change that. You know that, don’t you sweetheart?” 

A few seconds of silence passed before Richie’s eyes slowly fluttered open. “...Yeah,” He choked, nodding. Shifting again, Richie moved to sit back in an upright position. He clutched the blanket tightly around his shoulders, as if he was using it as a shield for protection. “I…” Richie said, a look of shame crossing his face. “I’m sorry for what I said earlier...I was a real dick.” 

Bill stood at Richie’s words, making his way over to the couch to sit down beside him. The pair locked eyes and, for the first time since the quarry, they shared a new-found look of understanding. As the barriers between the two visibly washed away, Eddie saw a shift in their expressions that almost made him smile. 

Those were the eyes he knew from when they were children. From before all this pain. From before the clown. Richie no longer had anything to hide, and it was so plainly obvious in his face how wrecked he was after concealing something like that for so long. Reaching forward, Bill pulled Richie into a tight embrace. Bill tightly wrapped both arms around his friend’s back and rested his head on Richie’s shoulder. “It’s okay, R-r-richie,” Bill said, patting Richie’s back in reassurance. “It’s okay...” 

Richie stared remained silent, a shattered soul both in a physical and mental sense.

Slowly pulling back, all tension leaving his body, Bill smiled. He squeezed Richie’s shoulders and stared him directly in the eyes. “Th-thank you for telling us, Rich. We’re p-p-proud of you.” 

Richie caught Bill’s gaze, his already-glistening eyes dramatically widening in size. Eddie watched from the floor as Richie’s expression rapidly evolved from surprise, to relief, to happiness. Richie beamed, a single tear falling as his eyes fell shut and he nodded with blatant relief. 

Acceptance. 

Eddie hadn’t felt any tears leave his eyes until he felt two wet streaks form along his face. He didn’t want to spill any more tears tonight, so exhausted and broken from everything that’d happened. 

But this was different.

Eddie grinned as Richie practically yanked Bill into another tight embrace, the other Losers chuckling at the sight. From across the room, Stanley’s eyes met Eddie’s from where he still sat in the windowsill. The pair exchanged the same, mournful expression as the others surrounding them filled the room with a welcoming warm laughter. 

It was the same expression Richie had worn, only with a fragment dread. 

Their flights were all tomorrow. 

Being so preoccupied with everything else, Eddie had forgotten how quickly the group’s departure was approaching them. Head moving so slowly, Eddie turned to each of the Losers. He didn’t move from where he sat and didn’t listen to what the others were talking about. Instead, he stared at their faces and studied every detail. Their eyes, their smiles, their laughs, their mannerisms. The way Beverly’s nose scrunched when she grinned, and the way Mike watched the others with such great affection. Eddie noticed how Ben listened to others speak with such attentiveness, how Bill threw his head back when he laughed...

...or the gleam that shone in Richie’s eyes when he made the others smile. 

Eddie’s eyes fell shut as he internalized the images into his brain, making an oath to himself to never forget them. For all he knew, this could be one of the last times all seven Losers were ever together again. These people were his true family and Eddie cherished every second of this tranquil moment. 

Mike. 

Ben. 

Beverly. 

Bill. 

Richie. 

Stan. 

Himself. 

No matter the distance, no matter the time that may pass...their bond would would never waver, and Eddie was more than thankful to be blessed with such a valuable gift. Eddie’s eyes met Stanley’s once more. The man smiled sadly at Eddie, shedding a single tear that glimmered in the firelight. And in that moment, despite the havoc of that night and the eternal void that slowly threatened to consume them, they both felt comfort. 

Acceptance. 

They felt security that, with time, the surviving Losers would be alright. They would go back to their lives, move on and grow old while Eddie and Stanley were trapped forever in the past. 

A bittersweet pang ached in Eddie’s chest. 

_It was you from the start, it was always you._

Eddie shifted his gaze back towards Richie, who now rested his head on Bill’s shoulder as they all laughed about something Bill muttered under his breath. A genuine smile slowly formed on his own face, his heart jumping at the infrequent sensation. 

_Didn’t you ever notice the way he looked at you?_

Eddie stared, unblinking, at Richie’s face as the words he’d been trying to cultivate finally came together in his mind. “...I’m sorry I never looked back, Richie.” 

How did he miss it?

Eddie struggled to think clearly, the other Losers conversing around him once again. He tuned out their words for a while, too caught up in his own thoughts to hold his attention anywhere else. It wasn’t until Richie, his voice timid and hushed, spoke with an apprehensive tone that Eddie returned his attention to the group. “When we leave Derry...” Richie murmured, trailing off. His head still laid against Bill’s shoulder, arms wrapped tightly in the blanket and tucked on top of his chest. A nervous tone laced his softened voice. “...Do you think we’ll forget again? Like we did last time?”

Uncertainty crossed the group’s faces. 

Eddie swallowed anxiously. He hadn’t thought about that. His gaze fell upon Ben, who frowned deeply as he contemplated the idea. “No,” He replied, looking up to meet Richie’s eyes. “I don’t think so.” 

“Yeah,” Mike agreed, nodding, “Now that It’s gone for good this time.” 

“But even if it d-does start to happen again, we can make sure that we don’t let each other f-f-forget,” Bill said, lightly nudging Richie with his shoulder while glancing down at him. He pulled out his phone and held it out as an example. “We have cell phones n-now, and emails and video chats.” 

“I could call every day if you feel that you need it,” Mike said, his voice soft as he made the generous offer directed at everyone, “Or whenever you need the reassurance that you still remember.” 

“Yeah,” Richie said, shooting a thankful glance towards Mike, who smiled in return. But something was still off on his face. “...But what about Derry itself?”

Ben, still frowning, narrowed his eyes a bit. “Would you really want to remember everything that happened here?” 

“If it means remembering the good stuff,” Richie admitted quietly, “Then remembering all the bad stuff is worth it, I think.” 

Eddie glanced at Richie in surprise at his unexpected answer. And even in _his_ grave circumstances, he had to admit that Richie was right. After living over half of his life in ignorance having completely forgotten all of the people in this room...he didn’t think he could bare to endure it again if given the chance. Images of the Clubhouse flashed in Eddie’s mind, followed by visions of their many trips to the quarry, endless late nights sleeping over in each other’s basements, summer bike rides through the town...their entire childhood was here. All of their memories together were formed here, from the moment they’d all first met and the Losers Club was founded. 

“Do you, uh,” Richie hesitated as his voice grew quiet and he sank into himself. “...You know the kissing bridge?” 

Everyone nodded. 

“That’s where I went tonight,” Richie confessed. He avidly avoided making eye contact with any of the others as he spoke. “When we were younger I...I carved Eddie’s and my initials into it. R plus E. It was still there, after all this time, so I re-carved it. I don’t want to forget that.” 

Neither did Eddie. 

Beverly chuckled in surprise, a single tear streaking down her cheek. A warm smile broke through on her face as she playfully patted Richie’s foot. Her voice was so tender. “You really did that?” 

“Yeah,” Richie softly laughed along with her. He blushed when she caught his eye. “I was a real sap.” 

“Well now that you’ve told us all, I don’t think Bev is _ever_ gonna let you forget that,” Mike laughed, the others soon joining him. 

Their laughter, together with the amber glow of the fire, created a serene ambience that calmed Eddie more than he’d ever felt since coming back to Derry. 

Yeah. 

They were all gonna be okay after this.

Eddie’s eyes fell on Richie. He stared at him with a great intensity, taking in every meaningful second. The way Richie tucked himself under his blanket so tightly, all the way up to his chin. The way the flames seemed to shimmer along his cracked glasses. The way he...blushed when telling the others about the kissing bridge. The way he finally touched and embraced his friends with ease. The way he smiled so genuinely, free at last from the secret he harbored for so long. 

God, he could _see_ Richie’s warmth flowing from his body. See it, but not feel it. Something stirred in Eddie’s stomach at the sight as he felt pure elation rise within him. No, he couldn’t feel any warmth. But that didn’t mean it wasn’t there, or that Richie hadn’t grown to become a new sun that Eddie could follow as the one he’d known faded to nothingness in this frigid, lifeless world. 

_All he ever wanted was to make you laugh._

And in that moment, watching Richie’s smile under the soft glow of firelight, Eddie felt a swell of affection as the rest of the world fell away before his eyes. 

_It meant a lot to him._

In that moment…

...Eddie felt the same way he had when Richie laid next to him as kids. Whether it was in the hammock, in the Losers’ basements, outside at the quarry, or on Eddie’s bedroom floor. As long as Richie was there beside him, he always knew things would be okay. Richie made him feel safe, and secure, and important, and brave, and true, and...loved. He was a subtle comfort that Eddie took for granted before it was suddenly ripped away from him. But now, after so much time, so much anguish, he was here. Richie was alive and smiling before him. _This_ was the Richie that Eddie gave up his life for. 

_My name is Eddie Kaspbrak and I am dead._

_I died protecting my friends, and they lived because of me._

_I wish I wasn’t dead but I don’t regret what I did down there._

_My friends can’t see or hear me anymore but I am still here for them._

_I must accept the fact that my life has ended and nothing can change that._

_I have many regrets but being a Loser was never one of them._

_I am dead._

_I am dead._

_I am dead._

_And that’s okay, because Richie is alive._

Acceptance. 

An alleviating point Eddie thought he would never reach. 

“Alright,” A voice said, pulling Eddie back to reality from the expansive depths of his own mind. “It’s g-getting late, we should get you to bed, Rich.” 

“M’fine,” Richie mumbled, half-asleep on Bill’s shoulder. 

“Come on, Richie,” Mike said with a chuckle, offering his friend a hand. Richie took it and let Mike pull him to a standing position, using his other hand to secure his blanket around his shoulders. The group uttered quiet “goodnights” as the pair walked down the hall and up the stairs. 

Eddie trailed behind them, shooting Stanley a speechless glance with many words hidden behind it. There was so much he wanted to say, but right now, this was all he could give. Stanley nodded back, seeming to understand. Eddie could see a soft smile grow on his lips before he passed around the corner. 

The trio walked in silence, Richie still grasping Mike’s hand when they stopped outside Richie’s room. Mike opened the door for him and watched Richie shuffle inside and flip on the switch to the dull nightstand lamp. Eddie walked in, arms awkwardly crossed across his chest as he observed in silence. Mike took a step inside and placed a firm hand on Richie’s shoulder. He waited for Richie to glance back at him, the man’s eyes tired but aware, before speaking. “Listen, Richie. I know that with our...situation, you can’t talk about what really happened here with other people. Or what happened with Stan or Eddie.” 

Richie stared at Mike, suddenly waking up a bit at the mention of those names. 

“I just want you to know that...if you ever wanted to...talk, or anything,” Mike stumbled over his words, but Richie didn’t seem to notice because of the sincerity in his eyes. “You can call me, any time. And I’m almost positive everyone else feels the same. Any time, any place...one of us will answer when you need it.” 

A small, thankful smile appeared on Richie’s face. “Thanks, Mike.” 

“Here’s everyone’s numbers. I already gave them to everyone else,” Mike extended his hand to Richie, a folded piece of paper clutched in between his fingers. 

Richie took it and shoved it in his pocket without unfolding it.

“Losers stick together, no matter how far apart we really are,” Mike smiled somberly. He shifted on his feet like there was something more to say, eyes falling for a moment as Richie waited in patient silence. “Richie, I’m...so sorry.” 

“For what?” 

“Everything, I guess,” Mike admitted, a look of sadness washing over his face. “This whole mess.” 

Eddie ran a slow hand through his hair from beside Richie, both him and Richie seemingly piecing together what Mike was trying to say. Richie frowned and shook his head. “Don’t be.” 

Mike looked taken aback. 

“It’s not your fault, Mike,” Richie said in a weak voice, his eyes growing glassy. Eddie noticed a change in his expression as it morphed from grief, to anxiety, to a tense yet mournful clarity. Richie’s voice remained gentle and quiet as he spoke again. “...It’s not anyone’s fault.” 

_If anyone was gonna die, it should’ve been me._

_And if I’d been faster to get out of the way, then Eddie wouldn’t have had to pull that goddamn hero bullshit!_

_Bev, did you not hear what I just fucking said? That is exactly why I should blame myself. If it wasn’t for me he’d be standing right here!_

All that anger, all that self-hatred from just a few short hours ago, dissipated in front of Eddie’s eyes. An agonizing relief flooded through him at the words. 

Mike nodded, reaching up to wipe his own eyes with balled fists. And when he pulled them down, he was smiling again. “Get some rest, Richie.” 

“Yeah, I will,” Richie said as he nodded. He turned and made his way towards the bed as Mike stepped out and shut the door. 

And then they were alone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Land of the Living
> 
> Where did they go? That which I cherished and that I wrestled,  
> I don't want to be like the dust that settles.  
> This empire of nothing,  
> I find that I'm king of all these empty halls,  
> That I'm ruled by my own floors.
> 
> But you can't be an old fire if you're burning with a new flame,  
> So remember you were never a forgotten name.
> 
> Cos I know a land called the land of the living, it's the world beyond those curtains where we learned the play,  
> I hear the voices of my childhood singing it's the world beyond those doorways where we used to play.
> 
> Every moment is a chance to define what you want to become,  
> You're not a slave to the things you've done.  
> Be brave and be bold, be childish and old, it's the same old story,  
> Every life needs a hope of glory.
> 
> But you can't be an old fire if you're burning with a new flame,  
> So remember you were never a forgotten name.
> 
> Cos I know a land called the land of the living, it's the world beyond those curtains where we learned the play,  
> I hear the voices of my childhood singing it's the world beyond those doorways where we used to play.
> 
> I was born to be free, you were born to free me.
> 
> Cos I know a land called the land of the living, it's the world beyond those curtains where we learned the play,  
> Oh we'll go back, we'll go back to the beginning and we'll pickup on the trails of forgotten ways.


	11. Loving You

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: HOMOPHOBIC SLURS (MULTIPLE), INTERNALIZED HOMOPHOBIA

The sun was veiled by the shadow of twilight, but the comforting glow of the moon’s essence shone through the open blinds. 

Eddie remained where he stood as he watched Richie practically fall onto the bed and settle himself right in. The man stilled for a moment, eyes growing dazed as he seemed to stare at nothing. He slid a hand into his pocket and pulled out the paper Mike had given him. Fumbling with the crumpled note, Richie unfolded the paper and read its contents. His eyes slowly drifted down the page until they came to an abrupt stop. 

Richie gasped, his free hand flying to his mouth. 

A heavy silence flooded the room as Richie stared at the paper with widened eyes. Eddie rushed over, standing at the edge of the bed and leaning over to read what was written. Five names were listed in green ink, along with a cell phone number in parenthesis. But there was something else. A sixth name, scribbled hastily at the bottom of the page in black ink as if it were a last-minute addition. 

_Eddie Kaspbrak._

Oh. 

Eddie stared, unsure how to react as he watched Richie pull out his phone and open the keypad. Richie’s thumb trembled as he dialed the number written in black. He hesitated before lightly tapping the dial button, followed by another button to put the call on speaker. The phone didn’t ring, which wasn’t a shock. It’d been buried down in the darkest depths of Neibolt for almost a week, drained of what little battery it had left. But the sound that _did_ emerge made both Richie and Eddie jump. 

_”Hello, this is Edward Kaspbrak. I’m sorry I can’t answer the phone right now, but please leave a voicemail and I’ll get back to you as soon as I can. Thank you.”_

Tears pricked at the corners of Richie’s eyes as a few broke free and streamed down his face. He stared at the phone with an expression that almost looked frightened before exhaling the breath he’d been holding during the call. With a quick tap of his thumb, Richie hung up just as his phone was about to record a message. 

Then he dialed it again. 

And listened again. 

Then again. 

And again. 

And again. 

Eddie watched from where he’d sat down on the bed, pain ripping through the all-too familiar wounds of his heart as Richie sobbed into his open hand. Richie never stayed on the line long enough to leave a message, and instead chose to abruptly hang up as soon as Eddie’s recording was complete. 

But something was different about these tears. 

They were grief-stricken, yes, but...that crazed look that terrified Eddie so much had vanished. It seemed that, as Richie sat with his phone clutched tightly in his hand, he now cried in anguished acceptance rather than an outraged denial. Eddie knew he should’ve felt relieved at the sight, but in all honesty? He felt like shit. Eddie wasn’t sure how many times Richie dialed his number before he finally closed the app on his phone and placed the device on the coffee table. His hands still shook, but his cries had faded to quiet sniffs. He leaned over to turn off the lamp, hesitating with his hand on the switch. Richie eyed his phone once more before the quietest words slipped from his mouth as the room fell to darkness. 

“I love you, Eds.” 

Eddie cursed to himself as his eyes almost immediately adjusted to the sudden blackness. Richie’s figure lied before him, squirming underneath the blankets with his face faintly illuminated by the moonlight from outside. Tear-streaks glimmered on his cheeks. There wasn’t anything Eddie wouldn’t give to have Richie hear him once more, just to tell him that he’d heard it all. 

That he knew everything. 

_”No!”_ Richie would sometimes gasp in the dark hours of the night, panting as he shot up from where he laid. The other Losers usually slept through it, but Eddie, having always slept next to Richie at sleepovers, never missed it. 

Eddie would turn to face him, staring through the darkness that enveloped the room as he struggled to make out Richie’s face. _“You okay?”_ He’d whisper. 

Richie often jumped, caught off-guard by the previously silent figure next to him, before laying back down. _“I…”_ He’d stutter, breaths still heavy and uneven. _“I...I saw...I...It...It was...I-”_

_”You don’t have to talk about it.”_ Voice soft, Eddie would beckon him over to his spot. Richie always listened, scooting over so that his forehead brushed Eddie’s chest when he lied back down onto the floor. Eddie remembered the feeling of Richie trembling against him so vividly. He’d wrap an arm around Richie and bring the other up to the back of his head to create a loose embrace. 

_”I...Eddie, I-”_

_”It’s okay,”_ Eddie recalled whispering as he patted Richie’s head, _“I know.”_

And now, all these years later, Eddie found himself staring face-to-face with that same person. Except now, they weren’t surrounded by all the other sleeping Losers, and they weren’t kids anymore. Not in most senses, at least. When Eddie gazed through the darkness at Richie’s tear-streaked face, he saw the same face of the child who’d just had a haunting nightmare. 

Except this wasn’t a nightmare, and there was no waking up from this. 

_I love you, Eds._

A strange sensation rushed through Eddie as Richie’s words repeated in his mind again and again. A feeling of regret, fatigue, and loss...yet also a strange comfort. It was unfamiliar and, despite the pain that weighed him down, Eddie found himself wanting _more_. If just to have that small sense of ease. Something Richie said downstairs suddenly struck Eddie’s mind, the thought louder than the sound of any other thoughts. 

_It felt like there was something missing. For years, I never knew what it was. Not until I came back and saw him for the first time. Then, everything...made sense again._

And it seemed that, in one way or another, Eddie felt the same way. He thought back to that day outside, with Beverly and Ben under the tree. When he realized that he’d made the same mistake as Beverly. Eddie let his repressed fears from the abuse his mother inflicted on him guide his life choices all the way through adulthood. He thought he knew what he wanted and what was right. He thought he’d achieved a happy life. He thought what he had was good enough. 

He thought he knew what defined him. 

Christ, he’d never been so wrong in his life. It hurt to think about, how so many years were spent chasing after things that would only end up holding him back. Beverly once said that she wanted to run towards something, not away. Eddie pursued that notion every day of his life but never knew he’d been wearing a blindfold the entire time. Coming back to Derry ripped that blindfold off his face with such force that he’d failed to even notice it was gone. Not until it was far too late. 

The Losers were Eddie’s true family. 

They made him happier than he’d ever remembered feeling with anyone else in his life following his last departure from Derry. And not only did seeing the Losers’ faces bring back the childhood Eddie had forgotten, but they also allowed him to discover new aspects of himself he never knew existed. Eddie remembered what Richie said to him down in the cistern. He remembered the way Richie took his hand in his own and held it so firmly. He remembered how Richie stared at him with nothing but genuine and faithful eyes. He remembered the wave of adrenaline that rushed down his body at Richie’s words.

 _You’re braver than you think._

Richie was so brave, both as a child and an adult. He never showed his fears and chose to rise above them, no matter how long it took for him to finally reach that point. In the end, Richie always protected his friends, and Eddie admired him so much for it. 

But for Richie to say the same about Eddie? 

Sure, Eddie believed him in the moment. But as the days passed, Eddie could only wonder why Richie thought such a thing. Eddie grew up afraid of everything. Anything new was almost immediately labeled as dangerous or infectious, and Eddie was never allowed to go near those things without facing repercussions from his mother. She coddled him as a child and continued to do so until the very day she passed. It wasn’t until this very week that Eddie realized Myra had been doing exactly the same. They both forced their absurd notions into Eddie’s brain and somehow convinced it that they’d grown there on their own accord. 

It was like a never-ending, inescapable cycle. 

One that could only be broken when Eddie awoke from his mother’s haze of influence and became aware of his entrapment in her overly-enforced beliefs. The small fraction of time during Eddie’s life that he spent apart from his mother and wife was used to hunt down a killer space clown with his best friends and to beat the shit out of It not once, but twice. It was only then could Eddie truly delve into himself and find what those closest to him had been trying to repress. 

Eddie made It feel so small and defenseless down in the pharmacy’s basement. He held the leper tightly between clenched hands, watching in awe as the creature before him started to slowly shrink in size. The rage that poured through Eddie’s body as the leper fought back was something Eddie would never forget. He recalled what the leper tried to do to him…

_I told you about my friend in New York, the one who got AIDS._

The creature trapped him against the wall and tried to shove its disgusting tongue on his face, in his mouth, down his throat.

...And what the leper _said_ to him. 

_How about a blowjob, Eddie? I’ll do it for a dime, or maybe just a nickel? Hell, I’ll even do it for free!_

He squeezed tightly at the leper’s neck in a reckless fury as if his mother’s voice was coming from its own drooling mouth.

_Take your medication, Eddie-bear. You don’t want to get an infection, do you?_

Eddie had never felt anger like he had in that moment, the sound of his mother’s voice penetrating the darkest places in his mind and wreaking uncontrollable havoc. Seeing the leper do those things flipped a switch inside his mind and sent him on a terrified rampage. Its words struck his stomach with an invisible blade, sending shocks of pain up his body in repetitive waves. But that anger Eddie felt as the leper tried to force itself upon him didn’t matter, right? Nor the way Eddie fought back with the bravery Richie claimed he had, or the way he made It cower with such blatant fear? None of it mattered because Eddie could still feel that same frightening knot in his stomach as the leper’s words played again and again in his head. But why did those words suddenly bring him such torment when they hadn’t before tonight-

-No, no. None of it mattered because Eddie wasn’t gay. 

_I know what you’re probably thinking. Richie ‘I fucked your mom’ Tozier, a flaming homosexual?! Impossible, right?!_

An anxious shudder ran down Eddie’s back as he stared fiercely at Richie and heard his strong words echo through his thoughts. Richie’s face softened in expression as the man fell into the early stages of sleep, while Eddie’s heart beat so loudly in his chest that he swore the sound echoed through the room. The sound of Richie’s voice clashed with that of the leper’s, sending Eddie plummeting down a terrifying, unexplored crevice within his mind. The two entities fought so intensely that it soon became difficult for Eddie to distinguish the overwhelming emotions they both elicited. 

God, he wanted to believe Richie’s words more than anything, that Eddie was truly as brave as Richie thought him to be. But how could he when his memory of fighting back against the leper suddenly terrified him so fiercely when it hadn’t before? Why couldn’t the leper’s attack and Richie’s life-altering confession be present in his conscious mind without causing Eddie’s hands to tremble so violently? What the fuck _changed_ since this morning-

_If Eddie was dead, and if none of this truly mattered, then why the fuck did this hurt so much?_

...It was fear, a manifestation of Eddie’s own blind terror that sealed a part of himself away. 

No, Eddie wasn’t brave. 

Richie had gotten that part wrong. Eddie had always been frightened of so many things in the world and that’s still who he was now. It showed, too. It showed in nearly everything he did and in ways he couldn’t understand. Eddie was the one who froze when the Stanley spider attacked Richie. He was the one who froze when Beverly got dragged underwater by the clown. Two of his friends nearly died because he was too afraid to act. 

But then Richie got caught in the Deadlights. 

_You’re braver than you think._

And in that moment, nothing mattered more to Eddie than protecting him. 

_It kills monsters,_ Beverly had said to him, handing him the make-shift spear from the fence post outside. _If you believe it does._

From the days of his youth, Eddie lived in a shielded world due to his neglective upbringing and cemented fear. Eddie never believed he was brave until Richie convinced him otherwise down in the cistern, or until Beverly helped Eddie discover that the courage he longed to find so desperately had already been present within his heart for the duration of his life. He just had to _believe_ that it was truly there. It all just came down to a simple choice as to whether Eddie wanted to delve into himself and search for the bravery Richie so confidentially claimed he possessed or not.

But it couldn’t be that simple, could it? 

Eddie curled into himself on the bed beside Richie, who was now asleep. Bringing his hands tightly around his bent knees, Eddie let his head fall forward to rest his forehead on his shaking arms. Despite the darkness around him, he felt the ever-growing need to shroud his face. Just when Eddie thought his heart couldn’t work any harder, his pulse seemed to skyrocket as the drive with Richie to the kissing bridge all came crashing down at once. 

_Eddie saw himself, fully grown, standing in the kitchen of his childhood home. His mother stood before him, inspecting his clothes. A light blue polo shirt and a red zip-up hoodie, which were the same clothes he’d worn back to Derry. He was the same height as his mother now._

_“What were you doing out there, Eddie-bear? Is that a scratch on your cheek? And your clothes, they’re an absolute mess!”_

_“I was just playing outside with Richie, mommy,” Eddie found himself saying, the deeper tone of his adult voice feeling so very out-of-place given the context._

_“You’re too delicate, Eddie-bear, you can’t be playing like this,” She said firmly, “And what did I tell you about that Tozier boy, Eddie? You should stay away from him, he’s one of those fairies.”_

“Stop it,” Eddie whispered, his entire body growing tense at the unwanted voice in his head. A chill ran down Eddie’s spine as he told himself that all the awful things his mother said about Richie didn’t matter. That she was wrong, that she was _twisted_. That she’d always been wrong, yet still able to ensnare Eddie so easily in her web of lies. 

His mother was _wrong_. 

Eddie struggled to control his breathing, throat constricting, as another memory flashed in his head. 

_Eddie was a child again, standing in the kitchen in the house on Neibolt. Richie and Bill were there too and both the same age as him. Gasping in horror, Eddie watched as the fridge door swung open with a loud creak to reveal the mangled, decaying body of Stanley. He yelped when the boy’s head rolled away and sprouted the horrific legs of a spider._

_Then It attacked Richie._

_Eddie froze in the corner of the room, unable to move. No matter how hard he tried, something invisible restrained him and kept him far away. Richie’s terrified screams filled the air and made Eddie’s gut wrench._

_“What the h-hell is wrong with you, Eddie?” Bill asked with a furious tone, pinning Eddie against the wall with a strong arm. “You want R-r-richie to die, too?!”_

_“No, no I don’t want-” Eddie felt himself shrink beneath the taller kid standing before him as Richie’s terrified shrieks didn’t waver. “I’m sorry, Bill,” Eddie whimpered as tears spilled from his eyes. Christ, his voice was so weak. So young. So fragile. “I’m just so scared.”_

“I said stop it,” Eddie said, voice louder and more firm this time. 

It wasn’t true, it couldn’t be true. Eddie desperately tried to convince himself of that. Richie said he was brave. Braver than he led himself to believe. It was because of Eddie that the group was able to defeat It. Because of what he’d done when he faced It alone at the pharmacy, when he faced his fears without resistance and nearly won. No, Eddie wasn’t always brave. But he could choose to believe he was. Even if he didn’t see it for himself, he could still choose to believe Richie’s words. 

So he did. 

Eddie grew desperate to calm the thundering roars in his head, but everything was rushing in too quickly. He was sucked into another memory before he even had a chance to steady his rattled form. 

_”Eddie, are you in there?” Richie called from outside Eddie’s front door. Richie was grown, and tall enough to peer through the window that sat near the top of the door. He stared at Eddie through the glass with hands cupped on either side of his face. “Eddie!”_

_Eddie made to open the door, but a hand across his chest stopped him. His mother stepped in front of him, her eyes level with Eddie’s once again as she stared at him with anger._

_“You didn’t take your pills yet today, Eddie-bear.”_

_“Yes I did, mommy,” Eddie replied, trying to push past her to get to the door._

_“Eddie? Come on, come outside!” Richie shouted._

_“No you didn’t, they’re right here,” His mother countered, holding out a handful of medications in her hand._

_“Come out, Eddie!”_

_“Let me go, Richie is waiting for me,” Eddie snapped, struggling again to get through. But the grip his mother had on him was far too strong._

_“Come out!”_

_“No,” His mother snapped, somehow dragging Eddie’s fully-grown form up to his bedroom and nearly throwing him inside without effort. “You can’t be with him right now.”_

“That’s ENOUGH!” Eddie snapped, hitting a breaking point. He threw his arms to his sides, out of breath as his head spun. “LEAVE ME ALONE!” 

Eddie’s mother cut him off from his friends when he needed them most, during that first summer they faced the clown. He hadn’t realized it until it was almost too late, and he chose to stand up against his mother to go help his friends. And together, they all survived. But then Eddie moved away from Derry, and left those memories behind. And by the time he’d discovered what he’d been missing, it was far, far too late to make amends. 

Because Eddie was fucking dead. 

_”Agh!” Eddie hissed in pain, his childish voice so high-pitched and off-putting. He leaned against a jagged rock, vision blurring. He glanced down to where both his tiny hands lay pressed tightly against his stomach._

_There was so much blood._

_It was almost as red as the shorts he wore beneath the fanny pack attached around his waist. Shit, it hurt so fucking much, so much more than when he broke his arm. A figure approached him and Eddie had to strain his eyes to make out the familiar face of a young boy with glasses and dark, wavy hair._

_“Hey, Rich,” Eddie choked out, more blood spilling from his mouth as he did._

_Richie, no older than twelve, stared back at him as his eyes widened with great fear and concern. He scooted closer, leaning in towards Eddie’s face a bit to hear him better over the commotion happening a ways across the cistern. Adjusting his glasses on his nose, Richie spoke. “Yeah? What’s up, buddy?”_

_Using what little energy he had left, Eddie wore the best smile he could as he raised his eyes to meet Richie’s. “I fucked your mom,” Eddie chuckled, before choking up even more blood._

I fucked your mom.

Stupid, stupid, stupid. 

Why the fuck did he say that? One last laugh? One final joke? 

Perhaps it was because Eddie didn’t know how to express what he truly wanted to say. And that familiar phrase was the only way he knew how. Or perhaps...he was just _afraid_ of what he truly wanted to say. Afraid in the exact same way he was petrified to recall his encounter with the leper, or the moment of Richie confessed his hidden secrets to the Losers. But why the fuck did Eddie care so much about his final words to Richie? Why were they so important to him? 

_When we were younger I...I carved Eddie’s and my initials into it. R plus E. It was still there tonight, after all this time, so I re-carved it. I don’t want to forget that._

_It was you from the start. It was always you, and...it will always be you._

_I love you, Eddie Spaghetti._

The words felt like a punch in the gut. 

Eddie thought about what terrible shit the girls at school used to write about Richie on the bathroom stalls. The kids that used to call some of the other boys those insinuating homophobic slurs. The stories he’d heard of the AIDS epidemic. The leper at the pharmacy and how it taunted him. His mother, making him take those useless pills. The scorning, anger-ridden words she’d scream at him. 

But none of that mattered...because Eddie wasn’t…

 _I love you, Eds._

A wave of dread, raw terror beyond measure, crashed within Eddie’s chest as a simultaneous flutter graced his heart. It sent ripples of unease through his body and down his arms and legs. He shuddered, letting out a ragged breath as he shifted back and forth where he sat on the bed. His hands shook with dismay as Eddie raked his mind for any coherent thought. Heart pounding, Eddie sent himself into a crazed panic. He’d never felt such a racing fear like this. Not even when he lied there in the cistern, bleeding out, knowing that he would die...

Why did he feel this way? 

_Hey, Rich..._

Why did he care so much? 

_I fucked your mom._

What the FUCK was he so afraid of?

Eddie seized up as the image of his mother’s face flashed in his mind again and again, unable to stop. He cringed, squeezing his eyes shut tighter even though he knew if wouldn’t help. But the more he saw her face, the more quickly he came to realize a truth that evaded him for all of these years. 

His mother wasn’t really here. 

She was gone.

She couldn’t control him anymore. And even if she were, even if she tried, Eddie wouldn’t let her. Never again. The boys and girls from school. The leper. The clown. They weren’t here anymore, either. None of them were here, and they never would be again. So why the _hell_ did they still have such a reign on Eddie’s life? Taking a deep breath, Eddie reminded himself of what he learned from Richie and Beverly down in the buried caverns of Neibolt. 

Eddie could be brave, if he believed he was. 

If he believed he was. 

If he _believed_ he was. 

“Richie,” Eddie said, voice tense as he shifted his body to face the dark figure sleeping beside him. He stared at the man’s face, barely able to distinguish his features under such dull light. “I...don’t want to be afraid anymore. I’ve been afraid long enough.” 

_I love my friends, they are my everything. Nothing matters to me more than them, more than Richie!_ Eddie snapped inside his head, voice steady as he spoke to the memory of his mother’s furious face. _And you forced me to believe otherwise. You wouldn’t let me take risks, you wouldn’t let me grow. And because of that, I got older and nothing ever changed. I was too afraid to make a change. Too afraid to be brave._

Eddie gazed at Richie, his heartfelt words from the cistern flowing through his thoughts once again. 

_Or at least that’s what you made me believe,_ Eddie thought in a harsh tone that he’d never dared use with his mother before now. _And then I fucking died before I had the chance to try and change that._

“It took getting killed by a demon clown for me to realize that walking away from so many things because of the slightest chance something could go wrong is such a _shitty_ way to live,” Eddie said to Richie, a new-found anger rising in his voice as he spoke. His hands sat in clenched fists in his lap. 

“I know that because I _lived it_ ,” Eddie continued, grimacing with the last few words. “I lived it with my mother, with my wife, and then...for the first time in my life, I _didn’t_ walk away from something. I chose to walk _towards you_ , towards all of you.”

 _You can’t spend life afraid of every single thing that’s new or different or something you don’t understand!_ Eddie nearly screamed in his mind, the image of his mother starting to blur. A rush of pure energy surged through him at the sight. _That’s not living, not really._

“Some things...” Eddie sighed a shuddering breath. “Some things are worth the risk. I know that now. You Losers are my best friends, and I can’t stand that I lost you all for so many fucking years.” 

Eddie scooted nearer to Richie to better see his unknowing face. A familiar sensation burst forth within him once again, only growing in strength as Eddie allowed himself to move even closer to Richie. Despite his exhaustion, Eddie had never felt such _clarity_. 

_If Eddie was dead, and if none of this truly mattered, then why the fuck did he feel more lucid, more awake than he ever did when he was alive?_

“But Richie, saving you was worth it,” Eddie confessed with a whisper, eyes locked on Richie’s closed ones. “As much as I wish I could be alive and really here with you right now...if me dying is what the risk was to save your life, then it was worth it. You deserve to be happy, Rich. You made me happier in just a few days than I ever remember feeling in _years_.” 

A soft smile grew on Eddie’s face, silent tears now rolling down his cheeks. He felt his heart leap in his chest as he reached forward and gently cupped Richie’s sleeping face in both hands. A great surge of adrenaline pulsed through his veins at the touch, and the feeling was nothing less than exhilarating. There it was again, that vivid, astounding sense of enlightenment that sent exciting shivers down Eddie’s back...and he wanted _more_. 

“You...always made me so happy, Richie,” Eddie whispered tenderly, blinking away his tears. “You were always there. And what you said before, about missing a part of you all those years? It felt the same for me, too...and I didn’t even fucking notice. You were always more of a home for me than the house I grew up in. Not your house, or the Clubhouse, or anywhere. Just _you_ , Richie.” 

Eddie ran a hand through Richie’s hair. His eyes fell shut as a new pulse of tension tightened up his body. 

But...none of this mattered...because...Eddie wasn’t...

“But I…” Eddie stammered, disappointment and shame evident in his voice. “I let her get inside my head. She twisted everything, and I always believed her. She made me think I was sick. That I was _dirty_...if I was like you. God, when she called you those names I wanted to smash every window in the house because-”

Maybe…shit... 

_You were always more of a home for me than the house I grew up in._

...Maybe...it did matter... 

_You...always made me so happy, Richie._

...Fuck...it did. 

_All_ of this mattered, it mattered so fucking much.

It mattered more than anything in the entire goddamn world. 

Choking back a cry, Eddie took a deep breath. He hesitated before speaking again in an attempt to calm the chaotic pounding in his chest. “It’s because...even if she didn’t know it, she was...she was calling me the same thing. And fuck, she made me so terrified at the thought of liking you!” 

Unabridged clarity. 

Eddie’s head fell to rest of Richie’s chest as he tried to collect his ragged breaths. More tears burned as he squeezed his eyes shut, only to be met with the familiar face of his mother staring back at him. She screamed at him. 

This time, however, Eddie fought back. 

_SICK!_

“But you know what, Rich?” Eddie said, looking back up at Richie’s face. He still slept peacefully, completely unaware of the commotion unfolding before him. 

_TWISTED!_

“I’m not afraid of her anymore,” He said sharply as he leaned forward once again, hands landing back on either side of Richie’s face. 

_DIRTY!_

“She can’t control me anymore!” Eddie snapped loudly, a new confidence strong in his speech. 

And then, silence. 

Eddie waited, eyes shut tight, for the image of his mother to come running back to torment him again. But she never came. There was only quiet, and a dark void where she once stood. In all his life, Eddie had never felt so light. His entire body seemed to shed a heavy weight as he sat perched above Richie. 

She was gone. 

She was silenced, and Eddie was _freed_.

Laughing with relief, Eddie turned so that he was face-to-face with Richie as he slept. He leaned in closer, thumbs brushing gingerly across the man’s cheeks as he did. Then the same sensation he’d felt on the kissing bridge overcame his body once again, this time at a magnified intensity that was almost overwhelming. The closer Eddie got to Richie, the more he could hear, despite the absolute quiet. The more he could see, despite the endless darkness. The more he could feel, despite his unfortunate fate that barred him so cruelly from those he cared for most. 

Eddie had never seen a more beautiful sight. 

“You’re more important to me than anything,” Eddie admitted, bringing his head forward. He paused for a moment, just inches away from Richie’s face, before taking another nervous breath and resting his forehead against Richie’s. “Rich?” Eddie asked as his nose brushed Richie’s. A swell of admiration rushed through his chest at the sensation, feeling so right. 

“Richie, I-” Eddie delicately whispered, voice shaking. “I think I’m in love with you, too.” 

The world around Eddie fell away into space as time rolled to an abrupt stop. The sounds of his unsteady breaths were suddenly so loud, almost as intense as the sturdy, thudding heartbeat in his chest. Everything else in Eddie’s mind wisped away to nothing as he shivered. Exhaling, Eddie leaned his jaw forward the slightest fraction and hesitantly brushed his lips against Richie’s. The kiss was so light, like a feather in the breeze. It felt like coming home after such a long time away. 

But it was unreciprocated. 

And it was so, so cold. 

“Richie,” Eddie pulled back, whispering loudly. His vision blurred as his eyes widened. The matters of reality beat him from the outside in, time speeding up once again. Eddie cried out, firmly pressing his lips to Richie’s once more. “Richie!”

_I am dead._

“Please, Rich!” Eddie wept, trying to shake Richie’s shoulders in vain. “Please, you motherfucker! _I love you, too!_ ” 

_And that’s okay, because Richie is alive._

“I love you, Richie,” Eddie panted heavily, pulling back. He blinked away the oncoming tears, staring at Richie’s unmoving face. The sight broke him in ways he’d never felt before as his body grew weak and collapsed forward. Eddie threw himself over Richie’s chest and buried his face into his neck. 

“Richie,” Eddie sobbed, wrapping his arms as tightly as he could around the man. “I’m so sorry. I should have fucking seen it sooner.” 

They both had so many chances, while they were both still alive. The signs were there, but neither of them knew how to see them. Even Stanley saw it, all those years ago. 

Stupid, stupid, stupid! 

Eddie exhaled deeply, trying to calm himself down. He couldn’t let himself be angry now. There wasn’t a point to it. Not if there wasn’t anything Eddie could do to help himself, or help Richie. “The first time in my life that I’ve truly want to go out and _live_ ,” Eddie breathed, defeated, “and I can’t even fucking do it.” 

Propping himself up on his elbows, Eddie stared down at Richie’s face. He found himself chuckling between his uneven, breathy cries when Richie scrunched his nose the same way he did when they were kids. The sight softened something within Eddie, helping staunch the fires that had sparked deep in his core. “I can’t live for myself anymore,” Eddie said, voice quickly growing calmer the longer he stared at Richie’s resting face. “So please go out and live for me, Rich. Just seeing you be happy again will be good enough for me.” 

Richie shifted under the covers, turning to lay on his side. He let out a deep sigh before his breathing fell back into a slow, constant rhythm. Eddie, the gravity of everything finally starting to weigh him down, laid down beside him as his cries grew silent. 

They laid face-to-face, with Eddie’s hand resting on top of Richie’s. “I don’t know how this whole being dead thing works, but...I’ll follow you forever if this world lets me,” Eddie confided. “I’ll never leave your side again.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright. If you listen to only ONE song out of all the ones I've included...make it this one. The cello's melody during the chorus is identical, and I mean IDENTICAL to the Blood Oath theme from the It film scores. And to have that theme playing under these lyrics? Oh honey, you've got a big storm coming. 
> 
> Loving You - Seafret
> 
> I build a fire in the snow  
> Warm our bodies from the cold  
> And you said  
> If we never try  
> We'll never know  
> You have to sow the seed  
> And watch it grow
> 
> Everywhere I go, all I ever see  
> Are all the little ways that used to be  
> People that I know only ever speak  
> Like everythin' is headin' for catastrophe  
> There's nothing I could do, I don't get to choose  
> Even if I could rewrite the history  
> It's clear to see  
> That I'd still be
> 
> Loving you  
> Loving you
> 
> This is bound to leave a mark  
> But I'll be proud to wear the scars  
> They tell a rich tale of disaster  
> About a love and what came after  
> I'll be frozen like a storm  
> Think we should take the long way home
> 
> Everywhere I go, all I ever see  
> Are all the little ways that used to be  
> People that I know only ever speak  
> Like everything is headin' for catastrophe  
> There's nothing I could do, I don't get to choose  
> Even if I could rewrite the history  
> It's clear to see  
> That I'd still be
> 
> Loving you  
> Loving you  
> Loving you  
> Loving you


	12. If I Go, I'm Going

Eddie swore the sun rose early the next morning.

The night couldn’t have possibly passed so quickly. Beams of light struck Eddie right in the face where his head resting on Richie’s chest. He hadn’t moved all night, and would have stayed where he was if he hadn’t felt Richie stir beneath him. With a yawn, Richie threw his covers off, grabbed his bag, and padded to the bathroom. Eddie waited, scooting towards the edge of the bed, too focused on the panic rising inside him to worry about anything else. 

Everyone was leaving Derry today, once and for all. 

And as much as he tried to shove the idea away, Eddie couldn’t help but wonder when he’d see them again. Besides Bill and Richie, of course. He’d planned on following them the moment Eddie learned where Richie was going. And now he finally understood why he’d lept on such a decision without hesitation. 

Eddie loved Richie. 

This whole time, it was buried inside him. A concealed, fleeting desire that was locked away in the deepest vaults of his mind. But now that feeling was bursting from Eddie’s core, cycling through his whole body in powerful waves. He’d spent the night reigning in his remorse, shaping it and morphing it into something less painful. 

And it all revolved around Richie. 

Watching him live the rest of his life, and feeling safe and happy at his side despite Richie’s inability to see him. Eddie was dead and there was nothing to do to change that, but he wasn’t going to let that stop him from watching over his friends. Richie emerged from the bathroom, wearing a new set of clean clothes. He slung his bag over his shoulder and took one final glance around the room. Eddie, trailing Richie closer than he ever had before, left the bedroom and made for the stairs. A voice from across the hall, however, stopped Eddie in his tracks. But only he heard it, for Richie continued on his set path down the stairwell. 

It was Stanley’s voice. 

Eddie stood outside Bill’s door, leaning in and placing his ear against it. He was fairly certain he heard a faint _”I’m sorry, Bill”_ , but he had difficulty making out anything else. The act of listening to Stanley without him knowing Eddie was there made him feel uncomfortable, however. Lifting a hand, Eddie knocked on the door as a brief warning before slowly swinging it open and stepping inside. 

He spotted Stanley almost immediately. 

The man stood with his arms crossed, leaning against the far wall next to the window. Upon seeing Eddie, his hand shot up to quickly wipe at his eyes. Eddie offered him a soft smile and pretended not to notice. “Hey,” He said, walking over towards his friend. “Everything okay?” 

“Uh, yeah,” Stanley said, averting his eyes. Eddie followed his gaze and found Bill re-folding a messy pile of clothes to fit into his suitcase. “Just saying goodbye.” 

Eddie nodded. He stood in silence as they both watched Bill fumble with his shirts and lazily toss them into his bag. Stanley dramatically rolled his eyes at how terrible his folding was, drawing a chuckle from Eddie. “You should see Richie’s bag,” Eddie added, shaking his head. 

Stanley smiled and turned to face Eddie. “Hey, Eddie?” 

“Hm?” Eddie cocked an eyebrow. 

“I heard...yelling last night,” Stanley said cautiously, his smile fading as he slowly narrowed his eyes at Eddie in concern. “I thought it was best to leave you alone, but...what was wrong? Were you okay?” 

Eddie’s cheeks flushed, this time it was his turn to avert his eyes. No point holding anything back now, huh?

“You don’t have to tell me what happened,” Stanley added with a shrug when he was met with silence. 

“I...” 

“I just got worried, you know, after everything that happened yesterday…” Stanley trailed off, leaning in slightly towards Eddie to catch his eye again. 

“I...I’m-” 

“But could you at least tell me if you’re alright?” Stanley bargained, expression softening upon seeing a panic grow on Eddie’s face. 

“ _Stanley!_ ” Eddie snapped, patience growing thin. 

Stanley jerked back at the sound of his full name, frowning. He remained silent, picking up on the hint. 

Eddie sucked in a deep breath, held it in for as long as he could, and slowly breathed it out. It took every ounce of strength within him to maintain eye contact with Stanley as he finally spoke the truth that’d been buried inside him for so long. A truth he never realized even realized was there until now. “I...I’m in love with him too, Stan. I love him _so fucking much_.”

Expression falling, Stanley stared at Eddie with a look of agonizing remorse. It looked like he’d just been told the news he’d been dreading to hear, yet unsurprised and aware of its existence. Just as he looked in the windowsill when Eddie asked him if he’d known about Richie. 

_I...suspected._

_What made you suspect?_

_Didn’t you ever notice the way he looked at you?_

“Oh, Eddie,” Stanley breathed, his eyes growing glassy once again as he took his friend by either shoulder. He pulled Eddie in a firm embrace, rubbing his hands in rhythmic circles as Eddie hugged back. “I’m...sorry...I’m so fucking sorry...” 

Eddie pulled back and offered Stanley a saddened smile despite the single tear that streaked down his cheek. “Me too.” 

The loud sound of a zipper cut them off, causing the pair to turn back towards Bill. He’d finished packing the room, and was currently lugging his bags across the floor and out the door. Eddie made to follow him, but Stanley’s hand on his wrist stopped him. 

“It’s going to be okay now. Or okay as it can be, at least,” Stanley murmured, his eyes sincere and stricken with pain. Those words were the same he’d called out to Eddie after Richie’s panicked outburst at the dinner table. It was just a few days ago, but it felt like over a lifetime. Everything was so different now. “Patty...and Richie...they might not know we’re still with them, but...they’re gonna be okay now, Eddie.” 

“Yeah,” Eddie half-smiled, sorrow pouring through his chest. But he believed every word Stanley said despite the pure agony they brought with them. “They will.” 

Stanley smiled back, his eyes still tired yet also shining with affirmation. Placing a steady hand on Eddie’s shoulder, the pair walked out the door to join the others downstairs. Voices that echoed up the stairwell grew louder as they approached the front room. Rounding the corner, the pair spotted the other five Losers cleaning the room and snatching up their belongings. 

Their flights weren’t until this afternoon or evening, but the departing flights were all out of larger cities a further distance away from Derry. They’d have to leave soon if they wanted to get their respective airports on time. Feeling in the way, Eddie and Stanley stood leaning against the wall as they watched everyone else frantically pack their remaining bags. Eddie couldn’t help but smile at Bill and Richie, who’d sloppily shoved everything into their bags rather than nicely folding their clothes like the others. Another thirty minutes must’ve gone by before everyone was finally packed and ready to leave. 

And once the final zipper of Ben’s bag sealed shut, a quiet lull filled the room. Each Loser stood, a hand resting on their bags, as they slowly glanced around at one another. 

So, this was it. 

Just a week ago, they’d all come together for the first time in nearly three decades. They didn’t remember nearly anything about each other then...but now, they were as close as they’d ever been before, if not closer. They defeated the clown for good. And saved countless lives of the future residents of Derry, who could now rest with ease thanks to their unknown saviors. 

Now, here they stood, parting ways from Derry and each other for the second time. But this time was different. This time, they wouldn’t forget. They’d make sure of it. Instead, they’ll maintain the bonds they re-forged, no matter the distance between them. They were Losers, after all. And they always would be. 

“So this is where we say g-goodbye, huh?” Bill smiled, voice low. 

“Yeah,” Ben answered in a bittersweet tone, “But not forever.” 

“No, definitely not,” Beverly agreed with a relaxed smile, squeezing Ben’s arm from beside him. She reached into her pocket and held up her phone, tapping it with her index finger. “None of you are getting away from me that easily.” 

The group laughed, the sound so warm and inviting that Eddie cherished every second of it. Damn, he was gonna miss them so much. 

“Thank you,” Mike said once their laughter had died down. His eyes slowly panned from Loser to Loser, sending each a look of extended gratitude and fondness. “For the sacrifices you made, and for seeing this through to the end. We...we can all rest now.” 

Eddie sensed Stanley relax a bit beside him as he felt the same sense of comfort rush through his body. The others returned shallow nods of thanks back to Mike. If it wasn’t for him, and the sacrifices _he’d_ made by staying in Derry all those years...none of them ever would have seen each other again. Or remembered that the others even existed. Eddie shivered at the thought. 

Even dead, Eddie would rather be in a world in which he had the other Losers at his side rather than trapped in some cloudy, forgotten memory in which they didn’t exist. 

Of that, he was certain. 

“I, uh,” Richie stammered, pulling everyone’s eyes to him. “I love you all very much. And thank you for, you know...” 

The others stared at him, surprised, as if they’d all expected a joke to roll out of his mouth at the end. But it never came. And as Richie’s words sunk in, Beverly surged forward and threw her arms around him. The others followed suit until the all stood together, embracing each other one final time. 

“We love you too, Rich,” Beverly said as she pulled back and ran a gentle hand along the side of Richie’s face. Richie smiled back at her, but jumped when Beverly leaned back in and whispered something only he could hear. “Call me every night, okay?” 

Richie blinked in surprise, his expression quickly softening as the words settled in his mind. He looked as though he was about to object, but Richie knew better than to pick a fight with Beverly. Another smile grew on his face. “Sure thing, Bevvie.”

Beverly nodded in approval, a satisfied look on her face. As she pulled back, the Losers found themselves embracing each other individually. And with every embrace, came more words of affection and reassurance. They did this for a while, Eddie and Stanley watching with bittersweet contentment from the corner of the room. When the group came close to leaving, Eddie made his way over with Stanley close behind. They gave each Loser a quick hug and firm pat on the shoulder, even if they received no hugs in return. Beverly even earned an additional peck on the forehead from Eddie, tears brimming in his eyes as he watched her walk out the front door. 

Ben and Beverly were first to leave. They sat in the front of Ben’s rental car as he pulled it out of the parking lot. He honked as they pulled away, waving back to the others who stood on the porch. 

The other three followed soon after. Mike, who’d packed the boxes of his belongings from his home above the library into his car early that morning, worked to shove his final bag into the back seat of his car. Stanley stood next to him, watching with an amused grin, as he struggled to get the car door to shut and lock completely. Stanley was to go with Mike, who would take him almost the entire way home to Patty on his drive to Florida. 

Stanley turned to Eddie as Mike said his goodbyes to the others. Neither of them spoke, having already said what needed to be said. Instead of words, they shared a simple smile. Their expressions alone held more meaning than could ever be described through speech. It was a swell of emotion that left Eddie both relieved and somber as he watched Stanley climb into the passenger’s seat of the car. 

Mike pulled away, waving towards Bill and Richie, as Eddie watched them go until they were but a spec in the distance.

“R-r-ready, Richie?” Bill asked as he shoved his own bag into the trunk of Richie’s red rental car. 

“Yeah,” Richie said, tossing his bag beside Bill’s. But then he hesitated. “I, uh...I’m gonna go grab one more thing. Then I’ll be ready.” 

“Okay,” Bill nodded, frowning slightly. He lounged against the side of the car with his arms crossed and keys grasped firmly in one hand. 

Eddie waited in silence behind Bill, staring in the direction Richie had taken off in. It didn’t take long for Richie to return, clutching something small and black in his hands. As he walked closer, it was the distinct sound of pills shaking in bottles that gave it away. 

It was Eddie’s fanny pack. 

Without a word, Richie gently placed it in his trunk next to his bag before slamming the door shut with haste. Bill caught his eye and Richie blushed, quickly glancing away. Stepping forward, Bill pat the side of Richie’s arm and gave it a firm squeeze. When Richie looked back at him, he was met with nothing but an understanding smile. No judgement. Richie offered a half-smile back, visibly relaxing a bit under Bill’s reassuring touch. He turned and walked over to the passenger side of the car before sliding into the seat. Bill followed suit and sat on the driver’s side. The car was already started and ready to go by the time Eddie quietly slid into the backseat. 

He settled between the two front seats, not bothering to put on a seat-belt. What could possibly happen? He was already dead, after all. Eddie’s heart jumped when the car shifted into drive and slowly rolled down the rocky pavement. They slowly drifted away from the Townhouse, Eddie eyeing the building until they eventually rounded a corner and it vanished from sight. He turned, facing the front of the car again. Bill drove with his left hand on top of the wheel, the other resting on his leg. Richie sat back in his chair and faced the window, arms crossed over his chest. Eddie followed his gaze, and together they watched the houses float by. 

Some of them looked familiar, while others didn’t at all. It was a strange sensation, seeing a town he’d known he grew up in, yet barely being able to recognize landmarks within it. But it didn’t really matter now, Eddie supposed, since they were finally leaving this town for good. As much as it saddened Eddie to see the Losers go their separate ways again, he was incredibly relieved to get the fuck out of Derry. He agreed with Richie that there were plenty of fond memories here that they made together as kids, but...for Eddie? It was also the place where he died. It was the place he’d lost everything. Things he didn’t even know he had until they’d already slipped between his fingers like sand. 

Out of nowhere, Bill hit the brakes a little too hard, jerking the car and slowing down just enough to make a last-second sharp turn around a corner. He tried to play it off, but Richie just looked at him with a smirk. 

“Do you know where you’re going?” Richie asked, not not bothering to hide the light-hearted judgement in his speech. 

“Of course I d-do,” Bill stuttered, sounding offended. 

“Oh yeah?” Richie asked, pulling out his phone and opening the maps app, “How do we get to the interstate from here?” 

“We just g-go down here, turn left, and, uh,” Bill paused, second-guessing himself, “S-shit...was it turn right, next?” 

“Nope,” Richie replied, satisfaction laced in his amused tone. He dragged his fingers across his phone screen, eyeing the best route his phone had selected for them. “It’s a right turn, _then_ a left turn.” 

“Yeah, okay, w-whatever,” Bill groaned, shooting a glance at Richie, “Are you g-gonna be like this the entire drive to the airport?” 

A smirk crept onto Eddie’s face at the familiar question. 

_Are you gonna be like this the entire time we’re home?_

_Just trying to add some levity to this shit. I’ll go fuck myself._

“Well considering we’ve been on the road for less than five minutes and you’re already driving like me without my glasses,” Richie said, tapping away at his phone as he adjusted the settings of his GPS, “You bet your ass I will, Billiam.” 

Bill rolled his eyes at the nickname, but smiled. “Beep beep, Richie.” 

“That’s what the car horn is for, coward.” 

Eddie chuckled from the backseat, so relieved to see Richie finally returning to his old self. And not only that, but to also see the tension between the pair dissipated as if it was never there. Losing half of their original friend group in one week wrecked them in ways that would never fully heal. And in that pain, they closed each other off. But now, seeing Richie finally open up to Bill gave Eddie even more hope that things would be alright. That together, Richie and Bill would be there to truly listen to and support one another. Another few minutes of a comfortable silence passed, the soothing drone of the car’s engine like a purr. Eddie found himself staring at Richie, studying his eyes, his hair, his smile. 

_I’ll follow you forever if this world lets me._

Eddie smiled as they made their final turn towards the open road that’d lead them far away from this place. It felt like sucking in a deep lung-full of air after holding his breath underwater. The brisk clarity of the world unfolded before Eddie’s eyes. 

And it was so beautiful. 

_I’ll never leave your side again._

A beauty unlike any other, one that he’d only seen in starlit dreams of far-off lands that didn’t exist. And yet, here they sat, driving directly towards it. 

Closer and closer, Derry growing further out of Eddie’s reach. 

Until it wasn’t. 

It started as a faint pressure on his chest, like how the breeze brushed against his skin on those windy days outside the Townhouse. But this wasn’t that. The sensation was sharp, almost jagged, as its force grew stronger inside Eddie’s abdomen. Breaths growing uneven as panic rose within him, Eddie found himself pinned against the leather backseat chairs.

He pushed against them, only to be pulled back with an even greater strength. Eddies eyes darted to back of Bill’s head, then to Richie’s. A cry for help started to climb up his throat, but the sound never managed to escape his mouth before he was sucked into a world of black. 

Eddie was falling. 

No more than a few seconds passed before Eddie tumbled against something hard, sending stabs of pain shooting up his back. He groaned, eyes slowing re-gaining their vision as he lifted his head and looked around. Eddie, head spinning, sat with his hands and knees against a rocky pavement. When he finally glanced up, he was met with a sight more horrific than anything the clown ever made him see. 

“No…” 

A few hundred feet away, the red rental car continued down the road without him. 

“No,” Eddie breathed again, a new panic tearing through his heart and mind as he surged towards the car. He managed to take a few steps forward before the same pressure seemed to burst forth from his chest, piercing him as though it was the clown’s jagged claw. 

“NO!” He cried out, fighting with every ounce of willpower he could muster, “WAIT!”

But the car drove onwards, nothing but a small red spec in the distance. 

“RICHIE!” Eddie screamed. Pain tore through his throat as he yelled, but he didn’t care. He fought back even harder against the invisible force, yanking and tugging and wrestling and leaping. Yet he didn’t move another inch. “RICHIE!”

What the hell was this?

“FUCK! FUCK, FUCK, FUCK!” 

God, please no. 

“RICHIE, COME BACK!” 

Not this. 

“RICHIE, PLEASE!”

Not after everything.

”RICHIE!”

Anything but this. For fuck’s sake, _anything_ but this.

_“RICHIE!”_

Eddie fought until the car was long out of his sight. 

He fought as the evening breeze gently struck his exposed skin. 

He fought as the sun slowly slipped beneath the horizon, enveloping the world with twilight. 

He fought until he couldn’t bring himself to fight anymore. 

Until the weight of the world came crashing down on him all over again, just like it had before. 

_”Hey,” Richie sighed as he put his car in park on the side of the road, his voice was nothing more than a hushed whisper. He reached forward and placed a finger under Eddie’s chin, lifting his face to meet his eyes. Startled, Eddie blinked quickly, causing two tears to cascade down his cheeks. “Don’t get all mushy on me now, Eds.”_

_Richie’s words only seemed to make the tears fall faster._

_Eddie’s face scrunched with embarrassment as he tried to stop, averting his eyes to the dashboard to avoid Richie’s stare. “What did I fucking tell you, Rich,” Eddie grumbled, crossing his arms and leaning back in his seat. “Don’t call me Eds.”_

_“Alright fine,” Richie smirked, leaning a casual arm on the steering wheel, “Eddie Spaghetti.”_

_Eddie rolled his eyes. “Can’t you just call me by my normal name?”_

_“Funny,” Richie replied smoothly, “That’s not what your mom said to me last night.”_

_Richie grinned as Eddie swatted his shoulder, his quiet laugh growing much louder when he spotted the small smile that tugged on Eddie’s lips._

_“Hey!” Richie chuckled, reaching up to pinch Eddie’s cheek. “There he is.”_

_Eddie jerked away with a roll of his eyes. He felt a blush growing on his cheeks, but played it off as nothing. Meeting Richie’s eyes again, Eddie couldn’t help but lose the annoyed expression on his face for a genuine smile. He never understood why it was so easy for Richie to make him smile like that. A silence fell between them as Richie’s laughter died down, the only sound in the car being the dull static of the radio. Richie reached over to switch it off before glancing back at Eddie with a more serious expression. “Eddie?”_

_“Yeah?” Eddie replied, meeting Richie’s gaze._

_“I, uh,” Richie stammered, hand reaching to scratch the back of his head. “I...I know it’s not that far, but...I...listen, Eddie...I’m gonna...I...I’ll-”_

_Eddie smiled softly. “I’ll miss you too, Rich.”_

_Richie huffed a nervous laugh, nodding his head, “...Y-yeah.”_

_A wave of sadness overcame Eddie as reality finally began to sink in. Richie was leaving for college, and Eddie would be doing the same just a week later. And after that, all the Losers would be apart, spread out across the country. “It’s not for forever, though,” Eddie said, not sure if it was more for Richie or himself to hear._

_“Better not be,” Richie said with a wink, “Your mom would get so lonely without me there!”_

_“Seriously, Richie?” Eddie groaned, smacking him again in the same spot._

_“What?” Richie asked as he raised his arms in defeat. “It’s gonna be a while before I see you again, I gotta get all the good jokes out while I still can.”_

_“Then you should probably start telling them,” Eddie countered, trying and almost immediately failing to mask his smirk with a serious expression as Richie pretended to look offended. “I really fucking hate you sometimes, you know that?”_

_“Aw, Eds,” Richie gushed while placing his hands over his heart. “I hate you, too!”_

_Sighing, Eddie leaned forward and grabbed Richie by the shoulders. “Come here, asshole.”_

_Richie jumped as Eddie pulled him into a tight embrace. He hesitated, arms hanging awkwardly in the air before he wrapped them tightly around Eddie’s back. They clung to each other, heads resting on the other’s shoulder. Richie was so warm, and Eddie wasn’t sure how long he’d sat there taking it all in. Neither of them seemed to want to pull back, but Richie eventually did so. Mouth hanging slightly ajar, he reached up to adjust the glasses resting on his nose. “Uh,” Richie said, quickly turning to face the steering wheel again. “I should get going, before it gets dark.”_

_Eddie stared for a moment. He could’ve sworn he caught a glance of the blush that rose on Richie’s cheeks before he turned away. No, no...Eddie was probably just seeing things. “Yeah,” Eddie agreed after an awkward pause, nodding as he unbuckled his seat-belt, “Yeah, you’re right.”_

_Climbing out of the car and onto the sidewalk, Eddie turned to face Richie once more. One hand rested on the open car door while the other reached over to steady himself against the side of the car. “Drive safe, alright Rich?”_

_Richie rolled his eyes, but shot back a smile. “I’ll do my very best. Just for you, Eddie Spaghetti.”_

_Eddie let out a nervous laugh, shifting his weight on his feet. His expression suddenly grew more serious as he stared into Richie’s eyes with a newfound intensity. “I’ll see you soon?”_

_“Yeah,” Richie nodded, mirroring the look on Eddie’s face. “Bye, Eddie.”_

_“Bye, Richie.”_

_Eddie shut the door with a slam. With one final wave goodbye, Richie pulled back into the street and made his way down the pavement. Eddie watched him go, stepping out into the road, a single tear sliding down his face as he outstretched an arm to wave._

_And then Richie was gone._

Little did he know, that day was the last time Eddie ever saw Richie. Not until Mike called them all back to Derry after all those years. Eddie went to college, just like most of the others, but he only came back to Derry for the first few holiday breaks. And with each return, fewer and fewer Losers were present. 

But Richie...he never came back. He’d dropped out of school and got “some kind of low-life job” in the city, according to what his mother heard. Eddie worried about him for months. But, after time passed, those months turned into short weeks, and those weeks into mere days. Soon, once Eddie took his final step off of Derry’s soil for good...his last memories of Richie faded from his mind like smoke. Now here Eddie stood, on the very same road where everything first started to fall apart. 

“Richie,” Eddie sobbed as he sank to his knees in the middle of the road. Tears glistened in streaks down his face just as they had on Richie’s the night before.

Pain. 

“Please Richie. Don’t leave me...don’t leave me alone here...” 

Indescribable pain. 

“I just got you back, Rich...please don’t make me lose you again...” 

Unspeakable agony. 

“Please, you piece of shit, just come _back_.” 

It was a torment he’d never experienced before, not even in his darkest moments. The freedom to do whatever he pleased, while remaining trapped in the very town responsible for putting him in this position. 

Without Richie, without anyone. 

It was just Eddie now. 

Alone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If I Go, I'm Going - Gregory Alan Isakov
> 
> This house  
> She's holding secrets  
> I got my change behind the bed
> 
> In a coffee can  
> I throw my nickels in  
> Just in case I have to leave
> 
> And I will go... if you ask me to  
> I will stay... if you dare  
> And if I go I'm going shameless  
> I'll let my hunger take me there
> 
> This house  
> She's quite the talker  
> She creeks and moans  
> She keeps me up
> 
> And the photographs  
> Know I'm a liar  
> They just laugh
> 
> As I burn her down  
> And I will go if you ask me to  
> I will stay if you dare  
> And if I go I'm going on fire
> 
> Let my anger take me there  
> The shingles man they're shaking  
> The back door's burning through  
> This old house she's quite the keeper  
> Quite the keeper of you
> 
> I will go... if you ask me to  
> I will stay... if you dare  
> And if i go, I'm goin crazy  
> I'll let my darlin take me there  
> If i go, I'm goin crazy  
> I'll let my darlin take me there


	13. Stairs to the Attic

The sun’s bright rays were a stark contrast to the affliction that gradually seeped into the densest troves of Eddie’s mind. 

They mocked him. 

With every dawn came the sun, rising from beyond the horizon and gracing the dull sky with a warmth Eddie would never feel again. 

It taunted him. 

There the sun sat, that bastard, in its pedestal far off in the cosmos. Always present, always watching, yet always unreachable. With its tendrils came new life and growth, only reminding Eddie of his eternal entrapment in this nightmarish place. 

Derry. 

The town of his childhood and the site of his bitter end. A place that was forever haunted, but not by clowns, monsters, or ghosts. It was a prison, and nothing more than an inescapable torture that slowly ate away at what little spirit Eddie had salvaged inside him. 

_No one who dies here ever really dies._

Eddie shuddered as Beverly’s voice entered his thoughts, reciting the words she’d repeated for the others after telling them how the clown attacked her. He could feel the fear in her voice as she spoke. If that was his fate, Eddie didn’t want it. Anything, even the nothingness of the frigid bowels of space, would be a saving grace from the endless torment this town inflicted on him. There was no way out. 

The sun rose and set.

With every day, the sun came and went as it pleased. A divine luxury that Eddie had come to accept he’d never have. It felt as though time passed differently now, the awareness of Eddie’s confinement warping what little conception of time he had established in his head. 

The sun rose and set before returning again the following day. Eddie could never recall its absence, though. It always seemed to linger off in the far distance, beams of light like eyes on the back of his neck. Watching him, burning holes into his mind that he could not feel. 

Eddie wasn’t sure how many days had passed since he first watched Richie and Bill abandon him on the road. It could have been hours, days, weeks...even months, for all he knew. But why did it even fucking matter anymore? Everyone was gone and Eddie was alone. There was nothing to be done about it. 

Stanley made it out. 

He’d vanished with Mike, nowhere to be seen. No track or sign that pointed to any mutual entrapment was ever discovered. The two were probably both at their homes by now, moving on from this shitshow in one way or another. 

But if Stanley could leave, then why the _fuck_ couldn’t Eddie do the same?

Eddie often found himself in an ugly, jealous rage at the early thought. It wasn’t fair, none of it. After everything he’d been through, everything he’d seen...did he really survive all of that just to end up stuck in the one place he desperately yearned to escape from?

What the hell did he do to deserve this?

The sun rose and set. 

As time passed, however, Eddie found an unexpected solace in the refuge beyond the Townhouse. He often sat cross-legged on one of the large, flat boulders. It was here that Eddie and Stanley used to lounge to watch the birds skirt around in the branches above. Long, solemn walks through the surrounding woods provided a means of release and contemplation. Eddie’s steps dragged along the dirt, his face listless as he carried on aimlessly with no set direction. It wasn’t long before the town itself began to eat away at Eddie, sucking out his soul to leave nothing but an empty shell. 

Sometimes, walking was all Eddie could bring himself to do. 

He’d avoided entering the Townhouse again, too fearful that the familiarity would trigger memories he wasn’t quite ready to re-live. But Eddie’s efforts were in vain, for no matter where he went or how far the town allowed him to travel, he always found his thoughts drifting back to the Loser’s. 

To Richie. 

The sun rose and set. 

Eddie saw their faces in those of pedestrians who walked across the town, heard their laughs when the windchime’s rings filled the air during a gentle breeze. He could see flashes of their fight with Bowers and his goons down by the Barrens, hear the soft cries of his friends as they mourned for him at the quarry. 

They were everywhere. 

Their faces stared at him from every direction and there wasn’t a single place Eddie could flee. Yet, despite his certainty of his irreversible concealment, Eddie often strolled along the borders of the town’s properties. He walked along the streets, down trails of forests, up rocky paths, and through rivers of water. It was almost certain that he’d walked the entire stretch of Derry without prevail. 

And, just like everything else, Eddie would have to learn to come to terms with it. 

The sun rose and set. 

On his darkest days, Eddie calmly returned to the ruins of the house on Neibolt. He’d sit on a long piece of rubble, eyes locked on the few remnants of the well he’d once climbed down to rescue Beverly. The old stone structure, broke and torn away at its edges, was nearly all that remained of the house. The well itself was clogged with large chunks of earth and debris. That was probably for the best, Eddie figured as he watched a group of young, laughing kids glide by on their bicycles. Better to have that evil place sealed off for good, so nobody would ever have to face that nightmare again. Clown or no clown.

 _...Eddie, he...he’s all alone d-down there, Bev. H-he...he hates the dark…_

Eddie’s strength was like an hourglass. With every second that passed in Derry, another fraction of his heart would be ripped harshly from his chest. Another tether connecting Eddie to Richie, snapped in two. Drained of hope, Eddie eventually gave up on finding an escape. If there was one, he certainly would’ve found it by now. He wasn’t really that sure why he even allowed himself to grow hopeful in the first place. There was no escaping death, and no escaping Derry. One day, whether it be tomorrow or many years from now, Eddie would finally be at terms with that. 

But not yet, no...most certainly not yet. 

_...It wasn’t supposed to end this way. You...you weren’t supposed to…_

It was such a strange sensation, Eddie knowing that his body was still buried far beneath the surface of the house on Neibolt. An uneasy wave rolled down his spine at the thought, knowing that even if he _did_ manage to find a way out of Derry...a piece of him would always be trapped there. 

Eddie could never truly escape. 

_What are you saying?_

_That it’s best if...we just let people think he went missing._

The sun rose and set. 

When the flashes of the Loser’s faces in his mind finally became too much to bear, Eddie returned to the Townhouse. He wasn’t sure what he was looking for, other than a temporary escape from his new reality. But whatever the Townhouse held inside its walls, it seemed to work. Eddie walked through the halls, hands tucked in his pockets, taking in all the familiar sights and sounds. 

He’d memorize nearly every scratch and dent in the walls and floors after spending so much time cooped up inside, and the small details such as that was what kept Eddie grounded. They acted as a decoy, a distraction from the darker memories that resided there, lurking in the shadows and waiting for the perfect opportunity to strike. It’s not that Eddie wanted to forget them. No, that wasn’t it at all. He’d been through that before, and he’d never want to put himself through that hell again. It was that Eddie wasn’t ready to face the grasp of this new reality. To look himself in the eyes and remind himself of the fact that he was dead. 

Not just dead, though. 

Dead and alone. 

Eddie was trapped in Derry for what appeared to be the rest of eternity, locked away from friends he knew would never step foot back in this horrid place ever again. He didn’t blame them. 

_My name is Eddie Kaspbrak and I am dead._

_I died protecting my friends, and they lived because of me._

_I am dead._

Eddie would never have the privilege of watching his friends heal, of watching the light from their youth return to their eyes. He would never watched them overcome their traumas, facing life with the rest of the Losers at their sides. He’d never be able to watch their families grow, whether that be through marriage, children, or even pets. He’d never get to see them grow old and live the happy lives he knew they all deserved...the life Richie said he’d wanted Eddie to have. Pain tore through Eddie’s chest every time Richie’s face clawed its way into his mind. He saw Richie’s torment, his pain, his overwhelming grief as he mourned Eddie’s untimely death. 

_I’ve never seen him like this._

_Like what?_

_So...vulnerable._

The sun rose and set. 

Eddie’s death broke Richie in way that could never be fully healed. His world severed around him, slowly but with a firm force, fractionating Richie’s reality until there was nothing left of him but dust. Any act, even the slightest slip of emotion, would send pieces of him blowing away with the wind. 

And Eddie with it. 

_Talking about it will help. You can’t just bottle it all up forever._

_Well, doing that’s gotten me this far._

_And LOOK at yourself! F-for fuck’s sake, R-r-richie, why do you think you need to do this alone?_

The eerie quiet that consumed the Townhouse felt so wrong. Everyone else filled it with such warmth and life with their presence, and now it was nothing more than an empty carcass. Eddie’s luggage remained in his old room, untouched by anyone other than Richie. They were forced to leave it behind, their own belongings taking up the spare room in their cars. _Evidence_ , Bill had uttered in a grave tone when they were debating what to do with his bags. _They’ll p-p-prove he was here._

That, along with the few streaks of dried blood that still lined the bathroom floor, would coincide as solid evidence of Eddie’s presence in Derry before his disappearance. So many people mysteriously vanished from this place because of It, people surely wouldn’t turn their heads upon the loss of one more poor soul…

The sun rose and set.

 _Eddie is dead. He’s...dead, Bevvie._

_Yes...he’s gone._

_He saved me…_

Once he re-entered the Townhouse, Eddie never left. There was nothing outside for him, so why bother rubbing in the constant reminder of his imprisonment when he could repress the thoughts in here? 

Eddie often lounged across the couch in the same manner that Bill had while writing his book, eyes resting on the unlit fireplace. He recalled the pure rage the radiated off Richie’s body during that final night, how he shook with such an incredible anger that Eddie had never before witnessed. He remembered how scared he felt, how perplexed he was until those fated words flowed from Richie’s mouth. 

Those words were his ghosts, and they still haunted him to this day. 

_Ben, you will never understand what it’s like...because you got to have your goddamn happy ending with Beverly!_

_Richie what does that have to do with this?_

_Because you didn’t have to watch the love of your fucking life die in your arms!_

That was the moment everything changed, the moment that took Eddie’s world by the hand and crushed it with a single close of the fist. The force of it all came pounding down so violently that Eddie nearly passed out. His shoulders grew so heavy, pulling him down until he was nearly paralyzed by the intense weight. The strife within him struck the most sensitive points of his heart, which left him unable to process any coherent thoughts. He remembered the conflict that flourished in the pit of his stomach. If Eddie was dead, if nothing he did in this strange new world really mattered, then why the _fuck_ did seeing Richie like that hurt him in more ways he thought possible? 

_There was a moment when...I thought It got you. That I’d never see you again. And the thought ate me up inside and it wouldn’t go away. Still hasn’t, Eds._

The sun rose and set.

_It was you from the start. It was always you, and...it will always be you._

The sun rose and set.

 _I love you, Eddie Spaghetti._

The sun rose and set.

_I’m sorry, Eddie...for everything._

Other times, Eddie found himself curled up in the windowsill he and Stanley had taken to sharing. He’d sit in the sun, basking in its light as it poured through the window and flooded the room with a natural golden glow. He remembered the words Stanley spoke to him here, on their last night all together. 

_Didn’t you ever notice the way he looked at you? All he ever wanted was to make you laugh. It meant a lot to him._

A familiar rush of emotion pulsed through Eddie’s veins at the thought, an angered energy overflowing inside him. He’d done a lot of thinking in his time here alone, and in that time he remembered everything. Every single memory from Derry had come back to him, in one way or another. Most of which were Eddie’s repressed memories of Richie from when they were just kids. 

Every hushed whisper, every stolen glance, every prolonged embrace. 

Every chance they both had to express how they felt. 

To explore it, learn it, and finally understand it. They had so many chances, and yet they both wasted all of them in fear of what would happen. The friendship they’d formed over their years as kids was so precious, and Eddie’s mother instilled the fear in him that he’d taint it with how he truly felt.

That Eddie was a dirty, sick boy.

The sun rose and set. 

_It took getting killed by a demon clown for me to realize that walking away from so many things because of the slightest chance things could go wrong is such a shitty way to live._

_I know that because I lived it. I lived it with my mother, with Myra..._

_Some things are worth the risk. I know that now._

_But Richie, saving you was worth it._

Sick, his mother called Richie. And by extension, Eddie as well. 

_But you know what, Rich?_

Twisted. 

_I’m not afraid of her anymore._

Dirty. 

_Richie, I...I think I’m in love with you, too._

The sun rose. 

Eddie glared at the sun as it shone on him once again, peering over the horizon with that same damn gleam in its eye. Every day it watched him suffer. Every fucking day it glided above him, out of reach, shining a spotlight on every mistake he’d ever made. 

The sun cackled at him. 

“Fuck you,” Eddie spat, forcing his gaze upon the burning light in the sky. Its radiant beams struck his face with a great intensity, partially blinding him, yet he refused to peel his eyes away. “Fuck you!” 

The sun laughed louder, its rays growing even brighter through the window. 

Eddie stood, a new rage pouring through him. He swung the front door open with such power that it slammed against the outside wall of the structure. Small pieces of gravel and stone crunched underneath his shoes as he marched towards the edge of the sidewalk. 

“Is this some sort of game to you?” Eddie asked, throwing his hands to his sides. “Do you _enjoy_ watching me suffer?!” 

The light suddenly ceased its fits of laughter and glared back at him, its stoic stare leaving a familiar cold sensation against Eddie’s exposed skin. He shivered. 

_It’s going to be okay now. Or okay as it can be, at least._

_Patty...and Richie...they might not know we’re still with them, but...they’re gonna be okay now, Eddie._

Eddie burst out in a crazed laughter as the words Stanley shared with him crossed his mind. And to think, Eddie genuinely believed him, too. He actually thought that he could manage to find some kind of a happy ending from this motherfucking mess. 

What a fucking joke. 

Hilarious. 

_Hysterical._

Eddie should’ve known better. It was foolish of him to think he could ever have anything more meaningful. Throwing his head back with a frustrated shout, an unsettling level of hysteria overtook his rational mind. “Well _newsflash,_ asshole! I’m already a fucking Loser!” 

The sun peered down at him in silence. 

“You know what that means?!” Eddie yelled, eyes wide and fists clenched tightly at his sides. “It means I’ve got _nothing to lose, you stupid fuck!_ Anything and anyone I ever cared about is gone now, and they’re never coming back.” 

No response. 

“So don’t hold back, you _coward!_ ” Eddie was screaming now, standing in the middle of the street. He had a finger pointed sharply towards the sky, hand trembling. “ _I can fucking take it! I will-_ ” 

Eddie jerked back, words cut short as his throat suddenly clenched so tightly he could barely breathe. A hand shot to his neck and desperately latched on. Cold air squeezed into Eddie’s lungs with every choked gasp, trapped inside his body until he heaved it out forcefully. 

Something was wrong. 

A pressure, identical to the one that held him back in Derry, now engulfed Eddies face, mouth, and throat. It stretched all the way down the length of his torso, constricting his shallow breaths even further. Eddie froze upon recognizing the paralyzing sensation, the same one that tore him away from Bill and Richie. Almost retching, Eddie collapsed to his knees. One hand was clenched his throat while the other fell forward to catch himself on the pavement. 

“What is this…” He breathed, slowly craning his neck to glance up at the sun. 

A pulse of light washed down upon him in answer, and Eddie tensed when he felt something bizarre crawl from his feet towards the top of his body. He shivered on instinct, yet the feeling upon his skin was not cold. Before Eddie could process the sensation, another pulse of light struck his body, this time right in the center of his chest. Eddie inhaled a strained gasp, eyes bulging from his face as the same sensation washed over him again. He could barely breathe now, a foreign pain tearing down his throat with such force he became light-headed. 

“What’s...what’s happening?” Eddie choked out, the words sending him into a fit of coughs. 

The sun burst forth in reply, its light branching outwards into endless tendrils of golden light. They reached out to Eddie, beckoning him forward. Frowning, Eddie held out a hand and tried to grasp the light before him. And when he did, the entire world ceased to a halt. 

He saw nothing. 

Heard nothing. 

But felt _everything_.

There, resting upon his hand, was an unseeable form that felt lighter than a summer breeze’s grasp. It soaked into him, sweeping throughout the rest of his body and consuming him in one fluid motion. 

Something Eddie thought he’d lost forever. 

Warmth. 

With every beam that struck his being, Eddie felt another burst of heat erupt under his skin and in his blood. His heart raced, mind processing everything far too slowly to comprehend what was happening. “What is thi-” 

This couldn’t be real. Eddie was dead, and in death he felt no longer felt the sun’s lingering touch. 

But the warmth on his hands felt so _real_. 

Before Eddie could act, another flash from the sun flared out above him, filling the once-blue sky with endless streams of white and golden lights. It was like a crystal hovered above the world, plastering light across the galaxy as it refracted through its geometric form. 

It was breathtaking. 

The longer Eddie stared, completely neglecting the searing pain in his eyes, the closer he felt to it. He reached out his other hand, a fiery pain tearing through his throat as he did, splaying them out in front of him. In stunned awe, Eddie gaped in childlike fascination as the golden arms wrapped themselves around his own and pull him upwards. 

Eddie was flying. 

And as he did, the lights grew closer, brighter, louder. 

The warmth flooding through Eddie’s body was almost overwhelming now, overloading his brain with more stimulation than he’d ever experienced. He picked up speed, breathing growing ragged as the pressure around his mouth and throat continued to constrict him. 

Eddie’s entire world had morphed into nothing but pure light. 

A warm, glowing beacon that caressed him so gently as it carried him away. 

Something caught Eddie’s eye in the distance, and he strained his eyes to see it more clearly. It was a shape of some sort, or maybe multiple, formed by near-invisible shadow. A new clarity graced his eyes upon his approach, and Eddie choked back a gasp as he shot a tight hand back to his burning throat. 

The light before him flickered, while its far-off reach began to retract in his peripheral vision. It gradually lost its golden glow, turning to a pure white figure. It flickered again, this time with a noise to accompany it. The tone was low and constant, almost like the static of a radio. Eddie exhaled, cringing at the pain that shot through his neck and chest upon the act. He tried his best to inhale through his nose but the action did little to ease his pain. In a matter of seconds, the rest of the world peeled away to reveal a place Eddie had never seen before. 

There was a sudden flash, followed by one final burst of light before the sun warped into a spiral and vanished. Eddie’s vision blurred, full of blindspots from staring so adamantly at the sun’s blazing form. The lone white light above him remained, its shape a haze through Eddie’s blurred eyes. It flickered again, and he squinted. 

Fuck, his throat hurt so bad. 

On instinct, Eddie’s hand reached up to clasp his throat, only to find that he couldn’t. Something blocked its path. Fingers dancing over the unfamiliar object, Eddie grasped it and gave an experimental tug. He winced as pain shot down his cheeks and neck at the sudden movement. It stung so horribly that tears pricked at the corners of his eyes. 

Something was in his throat, he could feel it. 

Eddie felt around again, fingers cautiously ghosting across his face. There was something...some kind of strap, maybe? It was spread across his face, completely covering his mouth and cheeks. Something protruded from the center of the strap, a thick piece of rubber? Or perhaps it was plastic. 

It was round, cylindrical, and seemed to make its way through Eddie’s mouth and all the way down his throat. 

Wait.

What the fuck? 

Was he...intubated? 

_What the fuck?_

Suddenly all too aware of the long, foreign tube stretching down Eddie’s throat and obstructing his airway, Eddie’s gag reflex kicked in and he started to choke. He pawed at the mask around his face with weak hands, his meager attempts to remove it unsuccessful. It was latched so tightly to his head that it wouldn’t budge. Eddie gagged again, head and shoulders violently jerking as his body frantically tried to remove the tube on its on. 

A fire raged down the back of Eddie’s throat and into his stomach, siering pain stabbing him raw on its way down. 

A new sound suddenly started to blare to Eddie’s side, pulling his attention away from the tube. His hearing was shot, but the faint beeping slowly grew louder as he gained awareness, like turning up the volume on a radio. The sounds came from all sides now, each of them with different tones and paces. They sounded like some kind of alarm. 

Then, something else. Farther away this time. 

Footsteps? 

Light thuds could be heard in the distance. They approached Eddie, their speed quickening until they were right at his side. Eddie jumped, startled, when he felt an unexpected pressure on the sides of his face. But the sensation was gone as quickly as it arrived, flooding Eddie with relief as the tightness of the mark was suddenly lifted away. 

A groan escaped his mouth when he felt a slight tug at the tube. 

He felt it slide up and out of his mouth in one fluid motion before sucking in a loud gasp of air. Heart pounding beyond belief, Eddie’s gaze drifted upwards and were met with another shining light. This one was small, and moved in a rapid zig-zag pattern in front of each eye. Then it flashed away. 

The owner of the footsteps remained at Eddie’s bedside, staring down at him with what could only be an exasperated look despite their face being covered with a surgical mask. They wore a white coat and nitrile gloves, one hand still clutching the tube they’d just removed from Eddie’s throat. 

A doctor. 

Squinting, Eddie strained his eyes to look beyond himself. A frown overtook his face as the world around him finally began to come into focus. He was laying in a bed inside a small room with a counter and chairs. A window sat on the wall above his head, and there was a large, flickering white light above him. 

Hospital.

Wait, a hospital? Why the fuck was he in a-

A sudden pang of panic struck Eddie in his core as the weight of his memories closed in on him from all directions. Everything came back, hitting hard and all at once. 

Derry.

Neibolt. 

The clown. 

The fight. 

Eddie winced, a sudden jolt of pain shooting up through his abdomen and up his spine. 

_Eddie saved Richie._

_The clown pierced Eddie through the stomach._

_And then there was pain._

_So, so much pain._

Hand shaking, Eddie dreadfully reached for his lower stomach under the covers. Something twisted in his chest when he felt large, thick bandages wrapped tightly around his entire torso, covering the exact site he’d been impaled. 

Was this a dream? 

Body trembling, Eddie’s eyes found their way back towards the doctor that stood at his side. It wasn’t until now that he realized they’d been speaking to him, asking him questions. But Eddie couldn’t focus on that right now, now with his head about to explode. “Wh-” Eddie started, only to choke on his words from the dryness and pain that still laced his aching throat. 

“Eddie? Can you hear me?” The feminine voice said as its owner leaned in closer to his face. Her hair was cut short and red, so similar to Beverly’s when she was young. 

Gaping, Eddie gave a quick nod. His mouth hung open, trying to find the words he didn’t know how to speak. “...Is...is th-” 

After breaking into another fit of coughs, Eddie was met with a two hands guiding a small plastic cup towards his mouth. Water pooled against his dry lips, a rush of relief rushing through him. Eddie took a sip, grimacing as he struggled to swallow. A deep breath fell from his mouth before he tried to speak again. 

“Eddie,” The doctor said as she drew the cup away, “Do you know where you are?”

“H-hospital,” Eddie answered, eyes wide and throat burning as the doctor nodded in approval. 

“Do you remember what happened?” 

“...Yes, I...think so.” 

The doctor paused to let out a deep breath she’d been holding. “My name is Joey,” She said, leaning in towards Eddie to examine his eyes with a flashlight again. “I’ve been your doctor since you’ve arrived.”

“Is...this...real?” Eddie croaked, eyes locked with the Joey’s. Each word sounding worse than the last. His voice cracked and rasped, almost sounding like another person rather than his own speech. 

Expression softening, Joey replied. “Yes, this is real.” 

_This is real._

“I’m…” Eddie forced out, wincing again, “...alive?” 

Eddie could spot the smile growing on Joey’s face despite the mask that shielded her mouth from view. Her gray eyes sparkled with joy as she spoke, “Yes, you are alive.” 

_You are alive._

Eddie wasn’t dead.

_You are alive._

Shit. 

_You are alive._

Holy fucking shit. 

_You are alive._

Eddie was alive. 

Eddie was alive and breathing real air despite the burn in his throat and speaking to another person who could actually see him and seeing with such vivid clarity that it was almost overwhelming and hearing those words Joey spoke to him and he was alive and feeling something as simple as the warmth of the blankets on his skin and he was alive and he was alive and he was alive and he wa- 

_Richie._

Where was he? 

Where were the others? 

“My…” Eddie breathed, eyes glistening with an overwhelming joy he’d never felt before in his life. Yes, _in his life_ , because Eddie was _alive._ “...friends...where-” 

“They stayed as long as they could before they had to leave,” Joey answered while monitoring the vitals that swept across one of the many screens surrounding Eddie’s bed. Then she turned to catch Eddie’s eye, another soft smile showing through her mask. “You have very kind friends.” 

Eddie frowned. “...Leave?” 

Joey’s eyes fell for a moment before looking up to meet Eddie’s panicked gaze once again. Eddie’s stomach sank when he slowly started to piece together the meaning behind her hesitation and expression. 

Holding his breath, Eddie swallowed his nerves and asked the dreaded question he knew Joey was waiting to hear out loud. “How...long...was I…” 

A muffled sigh left Joey’s mouth, Eddie could hear it through the mask. “You were in a coma for over three months.” 

A coma. 

For months. 

Three _months_. 

Head spinning, Eddie forced a tense nod as he watched his vision blur with tears. His jaw clenched and made his throat close up again. Hissing in pain, Eddie let his head fall, and his tears with it. A mesh of emotions surged through his chest, a war of panic and relief as they fought for control. 

“I’m...sorry, Eddie,” Joey said, her voice laced with a calm sorrow. She backed away from the bed and placed the clipboard she’d grabbed to record Eddie’s vitals back onto the counter by the door. Flipping a few pages, she leaned down and read something that appeared to be hand-written at the bottom of the page. “Your wife Myra is your only official emergency contact on your file, but some of your friends...especially Richie...they asked me to call if you woke up as well.” 

Eddie’s head shot up at the second name. 

Richie. 

His friends. 

He was alive. 

And so were they. 

“I’ve messaged Richie nearly every week to update him on your condition, and he wanted me to call immediately if there was any change,” Joey added, voice growing more uplifting. She smiled when Eddie nodded vigorously despite his tears. “I have all of your friends’ numbers, would you like me to call them as well?” 

“...Yes,” Eddie blinked, tears springing from his eyes as he started to grin. He nodded his head, a laugh of relief escaping his mouth. “Yes.” 

Joey smiled in return. She made to step out the door, but not until after she pointed out the button near Eddie’s bed that he should hit if he needed any assistance. A shuddering breath fell from Eddie’s mouth as Joey pulled the door shut behind them. 

Eddie was alive. 

He was alive and the clown was dead. 

The Losers would be able to see him, and hear him, and embrace him. 

And he would see Richie. 

Richie. 

_I love you, Eddie Spaghetti._

Eddie’s heart swelled, sending a wave of joy rippling through him in all directions. Richie was alive, and Eddie was alive. This was the chance, a new chance to take the leap like he’d failed to do all those times when he was younger. After all this time, after everything both of them had been through, Eddie could finally confess how he felt to Richie. 

Eddie loved Richie, and Richie, he- 

_You were in a coma for over three months._

...He said those things while Eddie was asleep. 

It wasn’t real, was it? 

It had been a dream, a starlit fantasy of far-off lands and wonders that didn’t exist. A fable, a story, a piece of fiction concocted by the delirium of his mind while he was caught drifting between the living and the dead. 

Everything Richie said, everything he told Eddie...no, it had to be real, right? 

It had to be. 

Eddie wasn’t sure what to believe. If he’d learned anything from his time trapped inside his own head, it was not to get his hopes up. There was no point, if they were just going to be crushed again. Like they always were... 

...For it was but a fool’s dream. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And this mark's the end of Eddie's POV, and the start of Richie's POV through Chapter 28. 
> 
> Stairs to the Attic - The Antlers 
> 
> I decided on that evening that I was through with sitting still  
> I stood up and started moving with a childlike fascination  
> For those doors that don't have locks  
> And the stairways that were blocked  
> So I dug through the obstruction  
> Put my fist around the railing  
> And each step was far apart  
> And far away from steps before it  
> And the air was getting thinner  
> 'Til I couldn't breathe at all  
> And if I happened to look behind me  
> There were miles and miles of stairs  
> Enough so I couldn't see the doorway  
> But I knew that it was there  
> And on the last step I was dizzy  
> 'Cause there were stairs in all directions  
> But I found another door  
> And through the door there was the attic  
> Without old clothes  
> Without a ceiling  
> Everything had opened wide  
> Into the jaws of something bigger  
> And suddenly I saw that I was  
> Upstairs and outside and freezing on the roof  
> Finally it had found me  
> The answer, the feeling, and the truth:  
> That I'm small  
> I'm smaller than the smallest fireball.


	14. Putting the Dog to Sleep

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: BLOOD/GORE

_The searing lights blazed with an unearthly glow, burning through his eyes and into the abyssal craters in his mind._

_He was paralyzed._

_He was weightless._

_The structure of time collapsed around him. It crumpled and fractionated every second into a stagnant eternity. He couldn’t move, no matter how hard he strained the muscles of his arms and legs to do so. The lights restrained him, leaving his body in a vulnerable, defenseless position._

_There was nothing he could do to stop it._

_”Beep beep, motherfucker!”_

_A sound of tearing flesh._

_The weight of the world instantaneously caught up with him, sending his limp body plummeting back to the ground. He struck the stone with a loud thud that sent shocks of pain up his spine._

_”Rich, Rich! Hey, Rich, wake up!”_

_He stirred at the distant echo of a man’s voice, the noises and sights around him gradually gaining a new sense of defined clarity._

_It was Eddie’s voice._

_”Yeah, there he is, buddy! Richie, listen...I think I got him, man. I did, I think I killed hi-!”_

_A sound of tearing flesh._

_”Richie...Richie?”_

_No…_

_”...Eddie-”_

Richie stood tall, flanked by the other Losers, glaring daggers at the weakening entity before him. An uncontainable rage seized control of his body as his hand clamped around It’s beating heart and squeezed. The sight of It’s diminishing form wasting away into dust sated Richie’s fierce thirst for revenge. 

Revenge, for what It did to Eddie. 

-Oh, fuck.

Eddie. 

Richie cursed, Eddie’s name falling from his mouth as the others embraced in triumph. He leapt down the jagged layers of boulders, not bothering to wait for the group to catch up with him, his eyes locking on the motionless figure strewn across the rocky ground. Eddie laid with his back propped up against a rock, both hands lightly clasped over Richie’s leather jacket. 

Heart pounding, Richie prayed what he’d done to stop the bleeding had been enough. 

_”He has to make himself small to get through the entrance of the cavern,” Beverly breathed as her face brightened with the new realization. “So, if we can get back there, we can force him down to size. We make him small, small enough so we can kill him!”_

_The Losers shared a tense look of agreement, vengeful sparks in catching fire in their eyes as they leapt into action. Mike and Beverly strode down a separate tunnel to distract the clown from behind, Ben rushing towards the mouth of the crevice to wait for the signal. Before joining Ben, Bill lagged behind to help Richie carry Eddie’s convulsing body back up to the center of the cavern. They gently placed the seriously-injured man down against a tall boulder._

_Eddie groaned with pain when his back hit the boulder, growing rigid as he breathed harshly through clenched teeth. Every aching breath he took struck Richie’s heart harder than the last._

_Richie knelt down in front of Eddie with trembling hands, both shock and adrenaline coursing through his chest and down his body. No matter how tightly Richie held onto him, Eddie felt further from his reach. The man’s breathing grew ragged, every weakening wail of pain lengthening the distance that threatened to rip the love of his life away from him forever._

_Richie couldn’t just sit there and watch the life slowly drain from Eddie’s eyes. Not after what he’d seen, not after everything they’d been through, not after finally getting Eddie back._

_Not before Richie had a chance to tell him._

_Staring down at Eddie, Richie shrugged off his jacket and tossed it on the cold ground. He quickly undid his tattered button-up shirt and balled it into his hands. Fuck, it wasn’t big enough. He needed more cloth. “Give me your flannels,” Richie snapped, glancing up at Bill and Ben._

_”Wha-” Ben started._

_”Just give me your fucking shirt, Ben!”_

_Bill and Ben shared a questioning look before obeying Richie’s order. They tossed their shirts to Richie, who caught them both mid-air, before slipping out of the crevice in an attempt to evade the clown. Richie didn’t see what happened next, too fixated on treating Eddie’s monstrous, intimidating wound._

_Richie was just a fucking comedian, man. He didn’t know what the hell he was doing, it was always Eddie who was prepared for this stuff. But now Eddie was dying, and Richie didn’t have a choice. Richie felt his stomach drop when he spotted the worsening paleness invading Eddie’s face. If he was going to act...he’d have to do it now. There wasn’t much time left._

_This better fucking work._

_”What are you doing?” Eddie whispered, eyelids drooping as he fought to keep them open. He gazed at Richie’s face and frowned when he caught the astonishingly nervous glint in his eyes._

_”Not letting you die, Eds,” Richie answered, voice strained, as he balled Ben’s shirt with his own._

_”Richie...I gotta tell you something,” Eddie sputtered, blood spilling from his mouth._

_”What? What’s up, buddy?” Richie asked frantically, leaning in to hear Eddie’s weakening voice as they locked eyes. His hands never stopped moving, pulling back Eddie’s shirt to reveal the deep puncture in his upper abdomen._

_Dear god._

_”I fucked your mom,” Eddie chuckled before breaking into a fit of chokes._

_Richie exhaled a deep, shuddering breath as he used Eddie’s distracted state to make his move. This was gonna hurt like hell, and there was no way around it. Without wasting another second, Richie reached forward and pulled Eddie’s torso away from the stone ledge. He snaked his hand around the man’s back and quickly drove his balled-up shirt into the opening of the wound._

_Eddie’s anguished screech of pain sent a shiver down Richie’s spine, a sound that, no matter how today ended, would haunt his dreams for the rest of his days._

_”Sorry, Eds,” Richie muttered as he sat back and shoved another folded ball of cloth into the wound on Eddie’s front side. Eddie screamed again, eyes watering as his quivering hands splayed open just inches above the wound._

_Jesus fuck._

_Thick, warm blood coated Richie’s arms all the way up to his elbows. He pushed his hands down even harder, adding more pressure to the wound to staunch the excessive bleeding. His fingers were, quite literally, inside Eddie’s abdomen. Richie retched when he felt his thumb brush against what he judged was a lung._

_Eddie whimpered, falling back against the stone behind him with a loud yelp. His eyelids grew even heavier, the pain growing too much to bear without passing out. “Stay with me, Eddie,” Richie pleaded as he wrapped the third shirt around Eddie’s torso and tied it off to hold the others in. He yanked at his belt moments after and repeated the same motion, stabbing a new whole through the leather to make it fit. A monstrous scream echoed from behind Richie, finally pulling his attention away from Eddie’s wound. “They need my help, Eds.”_

_With quick yet gentle hands, Richie placed his leather jacket over Eddie’s wound. He saw Eddie finally lose the battle and slip into unconsciousness when he stood to go help the other Losers._

“Eddie?!” Richie shrieked, tripping over his own feet while trying to reach Eddie’s unmoving form. He fell to his knees with cracking thuds, unphased by the pain that raked up his legs after such a harsh impact. 

_Please._

“Eddie, we did it, we got him, man,” Richie breathed out quickly, reaching up to place a hand on Eddie’s injured cheek. “Wake up.” 

The man didn’t flinch.

_No...please, no...._

“Eddie,” Richie rasped. His voice swelled with the intensifying panic that shrouded the forefront of his mind as he placed both of his tremoring hands on Eddie’s shoulders and shook.

_Oh god, Eddie, please…_

“Guys, we gotta get him out of here, he needs help!” Richie gasped, reaching his arm around Eddie’s back in an attempt to lift him off the ground. He clung to Eddie’s body, his own strength failing him as exhaustion swallowed his body. 

_...Eddie...my love._

The group jumped as a cracking sound echoed from above them and small chunks of stone began to plummet before striking the ground with great force. Within seconds, the ground beneath their feet began to rumble. They shared the same terrified expression as the walls around them quaked with even greater intensity. 

The clown was dead, and it was taking all of Neibolt down with it. 

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

They needed to haul some serious ass if they were gonna get Eddie out in time. 

“He’s gone…” Bill choked as a single tear fell from his pained eyes. 

“No, he’s alright, he’s just hurt,” Richie stammered, a tenacious expression crossing his face. 

“...Richie,” Beverly sobbed, her face contorting with anguish. “Honey, he’s dead...we have to go.” 

“NO HE’S NOT!” Richie shouted. He clutched the seams of Eddie’s sweatshirt in locked fists, entire body trembling. 

A thick layer of gravel and dust filled the air, seeping into the group’s lungs as they struggled to breathe. 

“The whole place is coming d-down,” Bill cried out as a large boulder crashed onto the ground just feet away from him, tear-stricken eyes darting between the other Losers and Richie. “We have to go...we have to l-leave him.” 

“SHUT UP!” Richie screamed so loudly his throat burned. A fury like no other burst forth from his core, sparking a blaze in his eyes. “WE GOTTA GET HIM OUT OF HERE RIGHT NOW! I CAN’T FUCKING LEAVE HIM LIKE THIS, MAN! WHAT THE FUCK IS WRONG WITH YOU?” 

“Richie-” 

A thunderous boom echoed through the cavern. Large cracks tore their way across the ground and up the walls, the ground trembling beneath their feet. 

“WHAT, ARE YOU GONNA LEAVE HIM DOWN HERE, ARE YOU NUTS? NO!” 

“RICHIE!” Bill shouted back with an equal intensity, “WE HAVE TO GO!” 

Richie launched himself forward onto Eddie’s limp body, wrapping his arms tightly around the man’s shoulders. He felt two pairs of strong hands latch onto his arms before they tried to pull him away. Using every bit of his remaining strength, Richie fought back, pulling Eddie back into his chest by his neck. 

_Eddie, please._

_Don’t leave me._

Thumb pressed tightly under the side of Eddie’s jaw, Richie went still when he felt the lightest jolt against his thumb. He pressed down harder, screaming at the hands that pulled at him to stop. “WAIT!” Richie screamed, gasping as he felt the same jolt again beneath his hand. “Wait…”

A pulse.

“Oh, fuck,” Richie breathed with the greatest relief as his eyes met Beverly’s. “He has a pulse, Bev, he-”

Beverly, face paling, darted over despite the other’s cries and placed her hand tightly against Eddie’s neck. Richie knew she felt it too when her head shot back up towards the others. “Oh my god,” She cried, remorse washing over her face as she realized they’d almost left him there alive. “He’s alive.” 

“He’s alive, he’s still alive,” Richie said between ragged breaths, voice shaking. “He’s got a _fucking _pulse and we have to get him out of here RIGHT FUCKING NOW!”__

__Not dead._ _

__He wasn’t dead._ _

__The others stared at Richie in shock, momentarily forgetting the collapsing cavern around them. A full few seconds ticked by before everyone shifted into motion. Richie, who was trembling far too much to be able to carry Eddie, was pulled forward by Beverly as Ben and Mike quickly scooped Eddie off the ground._ _

__“C-c-careful, k-keep him steady!” Bill shouted as they ran back to the entrance they’d used to get inside._ _

__Within half a minute, the group reached the upwards-stretching tunnel they’d descended from the cistern. The stone walls around them seemed to moan, both cracking and swaying as they harshly loosened from their resting place._ _

__“Shit,” Ben cursed, eyes darting back towards the group and then at Eddie, “How are we gonna get him up there?”_ _

__“We’re n-not supposed to move him,” Bill nervously, “We could h-hurt him even more than he already is...”_ _

__“It’s either this, or he dies,” Richie countered, taking the panic that seethed from his core and shoving it back into the cage within his mind in order to conceal it. He shivered as another rush of adrenaline coursed through his body in its place. Despite the unmatched fear that dwelled in Richie’s chest, his voice was strong and fierce. “We don’t have a choice.”_ _

__If they don’t move him, he’ll die._ _

__And if Eddie died…_ _

__...then so would Richie._ _

__“You all go,” Mike replied in a heartbeat. “I’ll carry him.”_ _

__Ben didn’t wait to be asked again as he shot up the tunnel Beverly close on his tail. As Bill followed seconds after, Mike reached forward to get a better grasp on Eddie’s slack body. Richie paused to help Mike adjust Eddie over his shoulders so that the man’s stomach rested against Mikes back. Eddie’s arms were slung around Mike’s neck, allowing him the use of one free hand to climb._ _

_Stay with me._

__Richie climbed up next, constantly peering back over his shoulder as Mike scaled the upwards tunnel backwards. His back faced Richie, stomach towards the ground as he evenly distributed his weight between both his feet and his free hand. Mike took longer than the others from carrying twice as much weight, and nearly five minutes passed before they finally reached a high-enough point for the others help secure them._ _

_Stay with me, Eddie._

__Large chunks of stone fell from the ceiling of the cistern, splashing loudly into the sewage and spraying the group with grey water. Soaked before they even reached its splashing waves, the Losers, led by Beverly, waded into the water and towards the nearest sewer tunnel. Mike and Ben used the water to their advantage to help support the dead weight of Eddie’s body._ _

__If he were awake, Eddie would fucking _murder_ them for letting this nasty-ass grey water get into his wounds. _ _

_Come on, stay with me, buddy._

__A loud boom echoed through the tunnels. The group ducked on instinct, those with free hands quickly covering their ears. The cavern must have collapsed. “Keep going!” Mike shouted from the rear when the others remained where they were, frozen with fear. “Don’t stop!”_ _

__Dust and large chunks of cement fell from the ceiling above, giving a foggy appearance to the air against the bright beam of Beverly’s flashlight. It got into their eyes, their mouths, their lungs. Hacking as she jogged, Beverly yelled over her shoulder, “We’re almost there!”_ _

__Richie glanced backwards, eyes landing on Eddie as he jogged through the shallowing water. Ben and Mike carried him, one person holding Eddie’s shoulders and the other grasping his upper legs. The curved cement walls trembled again, nearly sending him tumbling to the ground._ _

_Don’t you dare leave me, Eds._

__Everyone struggled to stand upright on their feet as they finally approached the well. More loud booms echoed down the tunnel they stopped in, each one sounding closer and more destructive than the last._ _

__“We can’t get Eddie up the same way with this one,” Mike observed, hands still gripped tightly on Eddie. “The well is too wide for me to do that.”_ _

__Breaths heavy and uneven, Bill stepped forward and peered up the well. His eyes darted back and forth between the well’s top and the rope swinging in the tunnels’ light breeze. “I have an id-”_ _

__A roar of clashing stone suddenly shot down the tunnel, blasting the group with a sound so loud it rattled the bones under their skin._ _

__“I h-have an idea,” Bill repeated, gesturing for the others to come forward. Bill started to scale the rope, wasting no time as he started to explain to the others. “R-r-richie come up here after me, then someone tie the rope around Eddie’s underarms and chest. That’ll k-k-keep him still enough to p-pull him up.”_ _

__The Losers shared another unspoken glance of agreement. While their expressions were genuine, they wouldn’t have had another choice if they’d disagreed. They were running out of time...Eddie was running out of time._ _

_Don’t die on me._

__Bill and Richie scaled the well within a minute and had Eddie up and hoisted over the well’s edge within another two. He’d thought his energy was spent, but Richie developed a newfound surge of adrenaline when he realized he was the only thing standing between Eddie and a far fall to certain death._ _

_Don’t you fucking die on me, Eddie._

__By the time the remaining Losers climbed out of the well, Richie and Bill had Eddie’s shoulders and legs in a tight grasp. They were already halfway up the basement stairs. Within seconds of reaching the surface, the basement shook so violently that the well collapsed beneath itself with a thundering crash. Dust, dirt, and debris shot up into the air from the well’s throat in a heavy cloud. It filled the basement and part of the first floor within mere seconds, quickly catching up to the group as they stumbled through the first floor hallway._ _

__The entire house shook back and forth, planks of the rotted floors falling down and raining on the group with pointy chunks of wood and grime._ _

__They were so close._ _

__Another rumble._ _

__The front door was in sight._ _

__Another blast._ _

__Just a few more steps._ _

__Another explosion._ _

__Just as the walls of the house began to cave in, the Losers emerged through the front door and didn’t stop running until they reached the street. Richie and Bill placed Eddie on the ground, Ben dropping to his knees to support his head while Mike started putting pressure on Eddie’s wound._ _

__They made it._ _

__Thank fuck._ _

__It was early morning now, and the sun struck Eddie at such an angle that truly made him look dead. But Richie knew he wasn’t, and had to repeat Ben’s shout of finding a pulse in his head again and again to rid his mind of the image. Eddie’s pulse had grown even weaker. It was extremely faint, but it was still there._ _

__Not dead._ _

__He wasn’t dead._ _

__Richie pivoted on his heels and sprinted down the street, flinging his car keys out of his pocket and smashing nearly every button until his headlights flashed on. He lept in, not bothering with a seat-belt, as his engine roared and he peeled forward towards the others. Jesus, was he glad he’d driven them here from the library._ _

_Please, Eddie._

__Richie flung the driver’s door open and tumbled out onto the pavement. He rushed over, sheer panic pulsing through him when he caught a glimpse of the very fresh blood that stained Eddie’s shirt. The make-shift bandage Richie made must’ve been completely saturated with blood._ _

__Not good._ _

_Please stay with me._

__“Help me get him in the car,” Richie snapped, voice tight and strained. It was growing more difficult to keep his anguish at bay. His panic clawed at the cage he’d thrown it in, about to break free of its reigns and unleash a wrath of agony like no other. But Richie couldn’t give in yet. Not until they got Eddie to a hospital._ _

__Richie reached to open the remaining car doors as Ben and Mike lifted Eddie off the pavement, carrying him towards the back seat. Richie slid in the backseat on the far side and was ready to place Eddie’s head in his lap to protect it. Beverly jumped into the passenger’s seat in front. Face so drained of color, Beverly looked almost as bad as Eddie did. Her eyes met Richie’s and they shared a silent expression that spoke more than any words could. The view shook him to his core. There was almost no hope in Beverly’s gaze, no comfort, no light...only raw and absolute fear._ _

_Please, for fuck’s sake, Eds._

__Mike threw himself into the front seat and slammed the door shut. He had the car moving within seconds, speeding down the street and directly towards the hospital._ _

_Don’t die on me._

__The world surrounding Richie seemed to seal itself off as he stared down at Eddie’s unconscious face. He was barely aware of Beverly dialing the hospital’s number on her cell phone, of Mike’s jerked accelerations and sharp turns of the car, or the sight of Ben and Bill in the rear-view mirror as they sprinted towards the direction of the Townhouse to grab another car._ _

__All Richie could see was Eddie’s face._ _

__It looked so gentle._ _

__Eddie seemed almost at peace, as if he never saw the many horrors they just faced in the now-demolished house on Neibolt street. He was still, unmoving, as if captured in a specific moment in time. Richie couldn’t even feel the breaths that faintly entered and left his mouth. The only thing that told him Eddie wasn’t dead was the weakening pulse in his neck._ _

_You can’t die on me, Eds._

_Not before I tell you._

__Richie placed his hands on either side of Eddie’s face, staring down at him from an awkward angle above._ _

__It couldn’t end this way._ _

_I love you, Eddie._

__Richie could feel the warmth of Eddie’s skin fleeting under the touch of his hands. “Faster, Mike!” Richie snapped between his sharpened breaths, eyes widening as what little color Eddie’s face had left began to fade. He felt his own body tense, every joint locking up with such force that it paralyzed him. It made it so much harder to breath, but it helped Richie block out the panic that threatened to break free inside of him._ _

__Not dead._ _

__“It doesn’t matter whether you’re equipped for this or not,” Beverly said loudly into the phone, holding onto the dashboard with her free hand as Mike swerved the car around its final turn. “He’ll die before we make it anywhere else!”_ _

__He wasn’t dead._ _

__Beverly hung up the phone and stared back at Eddie. Tears welled in her eyes, threatening to spill before she turned again to search for the hospital’s sign along the road up ahead. Richie did the same, heart racing in his chest when Beverly pointed and shouted for Mike to take the next right._ _

__With one final jerk of the car, Mike pulled the vehicle to an abrupt stop. Richie’s gaze shot out the window and towards the movement outside, spotting multiple figures sprinting towards the car dressed in various shades of whites, blues, and greens. Two of them pushed a large stretcher._ _

__“Here!” Richie called, his exhaustion evident in his voice, when Mike opened the door behind him and helped Richie out of the car. The pair stepped away to join Beverly off to the side, the trio watching in terror as the doctors and paramedics carefully hoisted Eddie onto the stretcher._ _

__Not dead._ _

__Richie felt his stomach sink to depths lower than he thought possible._ _

__He wasn’t dead._ _

__“My god,” One of the doctors breathed, studying the wound with large eyes. They wheeled Eddie towards the double doors ahead, where a pair of nurses held them open for them to pass through. “He needs blood STAT, get him to the OR _now!_ ” _ _

__The remaining staff pushed Eddie’s stretcher towards the door, Richie and the others falling in step close behind. One doctor, who seemed to be in charge, fell back from the group to jog beside the trio. “What’s his blood-type, do you know?”_ _

__Beverly and Mike shared a panicked look._ _

__They had no clue._ _

__“AB positive,” Richie blurted, surprising himself. How the fuck did he know that? Before could even ponder the question, his subconscious answered his own question. A vivid memory flashed in Richie’s mind of him and Eddie in the Clubhouse when they were kids, Eddie screaming at him in a flabbergasted state._ _

_The fuck do you mean you don’t know your blood-type?_ Eddie had yelled at him. _What if something happens and you need blood right away?!_

_Oh, and you know yours?_

_Yeah, I do, asshole. It’s AB positive._

__The doctor’s face relaxed at bit at the reply. “Good,” He nodded as they crossed through the door’s threshold, “Ideal, actually. Any allergies to medications?”_ _

__Everyone looked to Richie this time, Beverly and Mike both wearing expressions of relieved astonishment when Richie effortlessly rattled off a long list of names they’d never heard of._ _

__“Alright, okay,” The doctor answered, nodding his head again and repeating every medication under his breath as Richie listed them. They charged through the small waiting room before the doctor paused at another set of swinging double doors. “This is as far as you can go,” He said, catching his breath, “We’ll send someone out as soon as we can.”_ _

__The trio froze in their places, their eyes not leaving the doctor as he dashed through the doors and sprinted to catch up with Eddie’s moving stretcher. An awful silence fell upon them, the moving figures down the hall growing smaller with every second until they finally turned a corner and vanished._ _

__Richie gasped for air, as if he’d been holding his breath that entire time. He could hear the others do the same, the sounds of their heavy gasps mixing with the sounds in the room that suddenly felt so damn _loud_. The fluorescent lights above them flickered, their monotone buzz growing stronger and stronger until Richie swore he could feel its vibrations pounding against his skull. The clock on the wall ticked with every passing second, each click another crushing force on Richie’s ears. He trembled, muscles turning weak as their sources of energy all became depleted. _ _

__Then, a vision only Richie could experience tore through his mind and raced to clench his heart. It squeezed, knocking the breath out of him and making him sway on his feet. The reality of what just happened had finally struck Richie’s heart, images of the fight flashing through his head faster than he could process them._ _

__It felt almost like a dream._ _

__The sensation Richie felt as he floated helplessly off the ground, ascending further away from his friends as he lost all control of his body._ _

__The noise of ripping flesh as the clown drove his claw through Eddie’s body and how he threw Eddie across the cavern like rag. The sight of Eddie’s fresh blood coating his hands and how warm and thick it felt on his skin. The piercing sound of Eddie’s screams of pain as Richie shoved the other’s shirts into his abdomen. The consuming fear he tried to bury away as they carried Eddie out of the cistern and sewers, the entire world falling to ruin around them._ _

__But of all the painful sights from the cavern, only a single thought wreaked such devastating havoc in Richie’s mind once it broke free from its restraints._ _

_Please, don’t fucking leave me._

__The staggering possibility that, despite everything they’d done to save him, Eddie wouldn’t survive._ _

_I just got you back._

__The terror of Eddie being taken away from him for the second time in his life…_ _

_I never got to tell you..._

__...and also the last time._ _

_...Eddie...my love._

__Richie felt movement behind him, its presence nothing more than a soft rush of air against his exposed skin. He didn’t sway from where he stood. The sound of voices faded in and out like a faulty radio, their words slurred and all blending together into one._ _

__“Mike!”_ _

__“Bill!”_ _

__“Bev…”_ _

__“Oh god, Ben.”_ _

__“How is he?”_ _

__“Is he…”_ _

__“We got him here in time.”_ _

__“They took him back, they're...working on him now.”_ _

__Richie felt the vibrations on the floor as multiple sets of footsteps approached the doors he still faced. His heart pounded so harshly in his chest he thought he’d pass out from over-exertion._ _

__“Richie?” Bill’s voice, maybe._ _

__A lash of anguish struck Richie in the gut at the sound of his name. It tore away at the make-shift wall he’d built between himself and his surroundings._ _

__“You okay?” Ben this time._ _

__Fuck._ _

__“Richie, can you hear us?” Then Mike._ _

__FUCK._ _

__“Richie, sweetheart…” Beverly’s voice came next, the pain in her voice striking Richie directly in the chest. Richie felt a pressure on him, and didn’t realize it was her hands on his upper arm until he glanced down at them. Growing rigid, Richie slowing raised his glance to meet Beverly’s gaze. A disturbing flash of fear on Beverly’s face was all Richie could distinguish before his vision blurred with tears._ _

__And then he broke._ _

__A choked sob escaped Richie’s mouth as he plummeted to his knees against the cold tile floor. His body toppled forward, forcing Richie to catch himself with splayed hands. The blood that coated Richie’s arms now streaked across the floor in a haunting display. Richie didn’t notice, though, as he rested his head against his hand._ _

__The blood spread on his face, his hair, his glasses._ _

__And none of it was his own._ _

__Hot tears rolled down Richie’s face, resuspending the drying blood and creating awful streaks of red and brown on his cheeks. He suddenly felt another pressure on his shoulders. It was light at first, but quickly grew firmer and more widespread. Glancing up slightly, Richie could see the others kneeling down and wrapping their arms around him._ _

__Richie welcomed their embrace, yet it provided no comfort._ _

_Stay with me._

__No matter how tightly they held him, Richie felt alone._ _

_Don’t leave me, Eds._

__Lost, wandering aimlessly in the dark._ _

_Don’t go where I can’t follow you._

__Heart shattering under the immense pressure of his grief until it turned to sand in his fingers, slowly slipping away from his grasp._ _

_I love you, Eddie._

__He was no better off than the damn clown._ _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Putting the Dog to Sleep - The Antlers
> 
> Prove to me  
> I'm not gonna die alone  
> Put your arm 'round my collar bone  
> And open the door
> 
> Don't lie to me  
> If you're putting the dog to sleep  
> That pet you just couldn't keep  
> And couldn't afford
> 
> Well, prove to me  
> I'm not gonna die alone  
> Unstitch that shed-off soul  
> To close up the hole, that tore through my skin
> 
> Well my trust in you  
> Is a dog with a broken leg  
> Tendons too torn to beg  
> For you to let me back in
> 
> You said I can't prove to you  
> You're not gonna die alone  
> But trust me to take you home  
> To clean up that blood all over your paws
> 
> You can't keep running out  
> Kicking yourself off the bed  
> Kicking yourself in the head  
> Because you're kicking me too
> 
> Put your trust in me  
> I'm not gonna die alone  
> Put your trust in me  
> I'm not gonna die alone  
> I don't think so
> 
> Put your trust in me  
> I'm not gonna die alone  
> Put your trust in me  
> I'm not gonna die alone  
> I don't think so


	15. Kettering

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: BLOOD/GORE

_Richie and Eddie laid outside in the grass, hands resting behind their heads while they gazed up at the stars. Everyone else was still inside, sleeping soundly in the basement. Richie had a nightmare about their fight with the clown again and needed to get some air._

_Peeking over at the boy beside him, Richie shifted awkwardly in the grass. Something fluttered in his stomach as he watched Eddie’s face beneath the moonlight. It wasn’t a bad feeling, but it wasn’t a particularly pleasant one either. “Were you...scared?” He asked timidly, “...that you were gonna die? That day at Neibolt?”_

_Eddie frowned. “Uh, yeah. I guess so.”_

_Richie paused, that same feeling rushing through his stomach again when he pictured Eddie dying by the hands of the clown. “I was scared,” He admitted under his breath as he averted his gaze. “When we heard you screaming from downstairs, I thought...I thought It got you.”_

_He could see Eddie turn to look at him from the corner of his eye. His heart jumped, beating quickly as he kept his eyes locked on the distant stars above. A sudden warmth filled his cheeks, and Richie turned his head away in a panic. Hopefully it was too dark for Eddie to notice. ”I’m...glad It didn’t,” Richie muttered._

_Eddie stared at him for a long time. “Me too.”_

Richie shook his head in a desperate attempt to clear his thoughts of the memory. He ran both hands tensely through his hair before leaning forward to rest his elbows on his thighs. Lacking the strength to support his head, Richie let his face fall against the open palms of his waiting hands.

It _did_ get Eddie this time. 

He felt a gentle hand press against his back and start to trace smooth, repeating circles. Richie didn’t look up to see who it belonged to. Not that he didn’t want to know, but because his body was simply drained of the energy to move. 

Eddie was in surgery, again.

At another hospital. 

After Bill and Ben first arrived at the hospital in Derry, the group waited for hours in the otherwise empty waiting room. The low staff of doctors were forced to cancel all other routine procedures for the day as they continued to feverishly work to salvage what they could of Eddie’s organs. The thought of Eddie, sprawled out and unconscious on the operating table, a gaping wound through the middle of his chest...it tormented Richie like nothing he’d ever experienced. 

Richie never moved from where he collapsed on the floor. He just sat there, Eddie’s blood turning brown and caked on his skin and clothes, listless eyes staring at nothing. The others slept in the lined chairs behind him, bodies awkwardly spread out across various rows. It wasn’t until the familiar golden glow of the sunset beamed inside through the windows that Beverly finally convinced Richie to stand and go to the bathroom to wash off. She held his wrist as he walked behind her like a silent shadow, feet dragging on the floor. 

_Hold your hands out, Rich,_ Beverly had asked. And he did. Beverly scrubbed at Richie’s hands, arms, neck, and face...until he was finally clean of the blood from Eddie’s wound. She saved his glasses for last, wiping at the blood that seeped between the cracks on his lens. 

A nurse burst through the swinging double doors some time later, nervously asking them if they were willing to donate any blood, that they were running low. Mike was the quickest to volunteer, and he was ushered away to another room. He returned ten minutes later, having donated almost two pints of blood. It was dark by the time the lead doctor finally emerged, the man so exhausted he appeared as though he could have collapsed at any moment. Richie swallowed when he thought he spotted uncertainty laced behind his tired eyes and slumped stature.

_Don’t say it._

Richie tried to prepare himself for the worst as he stared into the doctor’s eyes, the most horrific fear he’d ever felt churning deep within him. His hands visibly shook. 

_Don’t you dare fucking say it._

“His heart stopped three times,” The doctor had told them, every word another blow to Richie’s thundering heart. “But we were able to get him back.” 

Nobody spoke. 

Not dead.

He wasn’t dead.

“We...somehow managed to stabilize him, we think long enough to transfer him to another hospital south of here. They’re far more equipped for someone in his condition,” The doctor said before his eyes landed on Richie. “He’s a lucky, lucky man. He would’ve died if you hadn’t packed the wound so tightly.”

Richie blinked. 

“How will you transfer him? He’s-” Mike asked with concern. 

“A helicopter is on its way,” The doctor replied, “They’ll be here soo-” 

A nurse suddenly burst through the double doors, cutting him off before he could finish. She was out of breath, face flushed and eyes wide. “He’s crashing again, we need you!” 

Less than a second passed before the pair were both sprinting back down the hall, abandoning the Losers alone in a state of shock as they tried to process what the doctor just said. 

Eddie’s heart stopped three times.

But they were able to bring him back.

Richie swayed on his feet, but Ben quickly reached out to catch him. Nobody could conjure the words to say. All they could bring themselves do was stand there and wait for the transport to arrive...and hope against hope Eddie would survive that long. Paralyzed, Richie couldn’t snap out of his torturous trance until the distant sounds of a helicopter drew near. He sprinted outside and watched them land in the street, an arm raised above his face to block out the powerful gusts of wind that struck his body. More doctors burst forth from the helicopter, wielding first bags in both hands. 

_Hold on, Eds._

The following thirty minutes passed in a blur as the new team of doctors worked to re-stabilize Eddie and transfer him to the helicopter outside. Richie waited on the pavement of the parking lot, unable to bring himself to go back and rejoin the others.

_Stay with me._

An alarming sense of panic washed through Richie’s chest when he spotted a gurney emerge from the doors across the lot. Two entire teams of doctors escorted Eddie to the waiting helicopter, carrying the supplies and machines Eddie needed for the trip. There were too many people in the way for Richie to catch a glimpse of Eddie, but that was probably for the best. 

If he saw Eddie now, grasping onto life by a fraction of a thread...he wasn’t sure if he’d be able to recover from that. 

Richie didn’t move until Eddie’s helicopter finally lifted off the ground and ascended into the night sky. He his car drove alone, against the other Loser’s wishes, trailing the path the helicopter had taken with the GPS on his phone as a guide. 

_I’m not leaving you, Eds._

_I wasn’t gonna leave you alone down there, and I don’t plan on starting now._

The rest of the group took Ben’s car back to the Townhouse, where they told him they’d gather all of their things and meet Richie at the new hospital. 

And now Richie sat, face buried in his hands in one of the top hospitals in Maine. The waiting room was enormous and far more densely-populated compared to the first. Natural light poured in from the glass windows that stretched all the way from the glossy tile floor to the ceiling. A constant low chatter of other waiting guests bounced back and forth against the walls. 

Richie had chosen to sit alone in a tight corner when he arrived, legs curled up onto his seat as he stared blankly at the wall. The dark hours of night still blackened the windows when the other Losers arrived about an hour later. Their panicked questions echoed through the large room, intensifying their volume five-fold and making Richie’s head pound. He couldn’t differentiate their voices as the noise all blended together in his ears. Beverly, catching Richie’s uncomfortable ticks as the others continued to flood him with questions, offered Richie a change of clothes she’d grabbed from his suitcase. Richie shot her a thankful glance when he left to find the restroom. 

When he returned, Richie tried to answer what he could...but the doctors hadn’t told him much. He said that Eddie’s helicopter arrived on the helipad just as he started to crash again, and they had to rush him inside to open him back up. There was “extensive internal damage,” Richie told them, using his fingers to mimic air quotes. He was told by a doctor that it would be a long surgery, that they would update him every hour with Eddie’s condition. 

An entire eight hours passed, however, before a single doctor or nurse came out to give them any news. 

It was early afternoon when Richie spotted the doctor’s face through one of the sliding glass doors that led to the operating rooms. He recognized her hair when she pulled off her scrub cap, it was styled like Beverly’s when she was a kid. Short, wavy, and red like autumn leaves. She was the doctor Richie spoke to when he first arrived.

_Eddie._

Richie bolted upright from his seat, startling whoever sat next to him. He rushed over to meet the doctor as the all too familiar feeling of dread washed over him once again. 

_Please, Eddie._

That moment in the cavern flashed in Richie’s mind. 

He remembered how Eddie smiled so brightly at him as he awoke from the Deadlights. He remembered how he wanted to do nothing more than yank Eddie into a tight embrace and never let him go. He remembered when Eddie’s face contorted into a pained scream when the claw struck through his body. He remembered the feeling of Eddie’s warm blood as it splattered on his skin. 

How, within a matter of seconds, Richie’s entire world almost came to an end in an instant. 

_Stay with me._

“Is he okay?” Richie forced out as his throat started to clench. His hands were tight fists at his sides, and they shook as he impatiently waited for an answer. Every second felt longer than an eternity. 

The doctor stared somberly, her eyes darting over Richie’s shoulders as she spotted the others approaching from behind. “Are these the friends you mentioned? The other ones who were at the accident?” She asked, glancing at Richie. 

Richie nodded quickly. 

“I’m Dr. Watney, but Joey is okay, too,” The doctor said, turning to quickly address the others beside Richie in a professional manner. “I operated on your friend, Edward Kaspbrak.” 

“How is he?” Richie pushed, barely able to contain his anxiety. The thunderous pounding of his heart rattled his body and sent him slipping into another panic. 

The group all stared at her, holding their breath. “He’s…” She said, pausing to try and find the words. “...He’s alive.” 

Oh, thank fuck. 

Richie exhaled loudly, his eyes fluttering shut with relief. A single tear slipped from the corner of one eye, but he made no move to wipe it away. 

“He suffered moderate damage to his right lung and diaphragm,” Joey described, using her hands to make gestures for emphasis. “But after a while we were able to graft the injured areas. It’ll take some time, but they should heal without any major complications.” 

“What else?” Richie asked, unable to ignore the nervous gleam that flashed across Joey’s eyes when she hesitated. 

“He’s not in good shape,” Joey admitted sympathetically, choosing her words very carefully. “Edward’s spine may have taken some damage, but we had to close him up before we were able to take a proper look. As you know, his heart had already stopped three times before he even got here...but while we were in the OR, his other organs started to fail as well. His body has been under a tremendous amount of stress in a such a short time.” 

“Other organs?” Ben asked gravely from over Richie’s shoulder. 

“He developed a bacterial infection from something that got into his wounds, the worst of it in his right upper quadrant. We put him on antibiotics right away, and it seems to be helping, but...” Joey paused again to exhale. “The damage had already been done. With his tremendous abdominal injuries, on top of the infection...Edward’s liver is failing, and he will need a transplant.” 

Oh god.

“We tried to recover what tissue we could, but it wasn’t eno-” 

“Me,” Richie said almost instantly, his voice sharp and a little louder than intended. “I’ll do it.” 

“Me too,” Beverly added, stepping forward and placing a hand on Richie’s shoulder. The rest of the group nodded in agreement, desperate to help Eddie in any way they could. 

Joey blinked in genuine surprise, mouth hanging open. “Uh, okay, we can get you upstairs and have you tested for compatibility.” 

_Keep holding on, Eddie._

“Joey…” Richie said quietly, terrified to meet her eyes but did so anyways. A question boiled within him as if it were burning him alive from the inside out. He dreaded asking it, and was even more scared of the answer he’d get, but he had to know. “If he gets the transplant...will he make it?” 

_Don’t let go._

A pained expression formed on Joey’s face before she quickly masked it with a more neutral one. “I’m sorry...I can’t answer that.”

_Please, Eds._

Richie nodded, agony tearing through his body in all directions. He forced himself to walk with the others as Joey led them upstairs to be tested. That familiar inkling of dread crept back into Richie’s mind. It consumed him, his surroundings growing hazy and his mind racing with too many thoughts. 

He didn’t flinch when they stuck him to draw his blood, or when they scraped his skin for samples. The sights and sounds around Richie blended into one as the pain that first struck him downstairs engulfed any coherent thought. It was like being locked in the Deadlights all over again, unable to move, or think, or feel. Richie couldn’t even escape the haze of his thoughts and return to the present until he heard the distant mention of Eddie’s name. 

“We’ll have your results back as soon as possible,” Joey said, hugging a clipboard to her chest. “We had Edward transferred to a private patient room to let him recuperate a bit before his next procedure. I can take you to see him, if you’d like, and you can all stay until visiting hours are over this evening.” 

_Eddie._

The Losers agreed without hesitation, and they followed closely behind Joey as she led them down many twists and turns of the building’s hallways. This placed was already immensely large compared to the hospital back in Derry, but being inside of it made it feel even more expansive. 

_Eddie._

A dreadful anticipation pooled in Richie’s core, swirling inside him like a predator ready to strike. Images of Eddie’s face appeared in his mind from the last time he saw him up close. Eddie, unconscious and pale, with his head resting in Richie’s lap as Mike drove swerved the car around their final turn. 

_Eddie._

Richie wasn’t prepared to see Eddie again, he knew that much. But he also knew that spending another second away from him would bring more torment than whatever sight his room held. No matter what, Richie had to know. He had to see for himself. Body tensing as Joey came to a stop in front of a door, Richie sucked in a deep breath through his nose. He held it in, counted to five, and slowly let it flow out of his mouth. 

“You should prepare yourselves for what you’re about to see,” Joey said honestly, her hand on the doorknob. She clicked it and pushed the door partially open. “I’ll give you some space, but if anything happens, press the red button above his bed and I’ll come.” 

“Thank you,” Beverly said, clasping Joey’s hand in her own and giving it a firm squeeze. 

Joey offered a sad smile in return before turning on her heels and briskly walking down the hall to another room. 

A heavy silence had fallen upon the group, and it was Bill who was first to finally break from his frozen state. He reached forward and, after one final nervous glance back at the others, pushed the door open to enter the room. The others followed close behind until Richie was left alone in the hall. 

Eddie was alive. 

Not dead. 

Not dead. 

Not dead. 

Richie stepped forward, repeating the notion in his mind. He passed through the door’s threshold and joined the others where they solemnly stood around Eddie’s bed. Time slowed, every passing second more tortuous than the last, as Richie struggled to see Eddie between the gaps of the others. 

But then Eddie came into view, it took everything Richie had not to flee back into the hallway. 

“Jesus fuck,” Richie breathed as his hands shot up to cover his mouth. A wave of nausea struck his stomach at the alarming sight before him. He stumbled back into a chair that lined the wall, nearly falling into it. 

Eddie laid still under the covers of the bed, unconscious. He wore no shirt but was covered with thick bandaging across his stomach all the way up to his chest. A matching bandage rested on Eddie’s cheek, which replaced the old one they’d made back at the Townhouse when Bowers stabbed him. Richie shivered at the sight of Eddie’s skin, still so pale and drained of color. Long tubes protruded from Eddie’s mouth, connected to various machines to help him breathe with his injured lung and diaphragm. 

Richie hadn’t thought it was physically possible, but Eddie looked even worse than he had in the car. He was so fragile...so delicate...so _broken_. Like the weakest shove would shatter him into a thousand pieces. He was a figure that appeared like Eddie, but didn’t feel like him at all. Like he was but an empty glass shell. 

_Shit, Eds._

Richie felt his heart jolt with an overwhelming panic as his gaze followed the endless tubing that seemed to extend from every area of Eddie’s body. 

_Shit._

Machines surrounded Eddie’s bed on both sides, each screen with their own distinct rhythm and sound...none of which were as loud or as fast as Richie’s racing heartbeat. 

_Fucking shit._

Richie wasn’t sure how much time had passed before Ben finally moved to sit down. He stopped next to Richie and placed a hand on his shoulder to bring him down into the chair beside him. Too weak to fight back, Richie submitted and sank into the cushioned chair. The others sat together on the small, cheap futon that lined the other wall, their eyes never leaving Eddie’s figure on the bed. 

“He’s alive. That’s what matters,” Mike said from across the room, arms resting against his thighs. His voice was tight, like there was so much more he wanted to say, but couldn’t bring himself to do it. 

_He’s alive...but for how long?_ A voice in the unseen depths of Richie’s thoughts countered. He felt a horrifying chill run down his spine at those words, shaking his head in an attempt to rid his mind of the thought. No, this couldn’t be happening. It was just a dream, a hallucination...it had to be.

Richie knew the voice all too well, the familiar and distinct sound of an entity that was supposed to be dead, erased from this world forever...yet here it was. 

The clown’s voice. 

_Did you miss me, Richie?_ The same voice snickered, that same awful cackle raking at the inside of Richie’s head. _Because I missed YOU!_

Not real. 

This wasn’t real. The clown was dead...Richie ripped and tore It’s beating heart apart with his own hands. 

“Eddie would be so pissed at us,” Ben uttered quietly, his mouth curving upwards in such a slight way that Richie almost missed it. 

“For what?” Bill asked, turning his head to look at Ben with a confused expression. 

“For dragging him through that dirty water,” Ben replied, shaking his head with a sigh as his smile grew a small fraction. Bill let out an exhausted chuckle. 

A tired smile made its way onto Beverly’s face as well. “He’d be telling us he’d get streptococcal something.” 

“Yeah,” Mike added warmly, “But he was right. He _did_.” 

“But they got him on antibiotics right away,” Bill added with the slightest spark of hope in his voice. “He’ll be okay, right Richie?” 

_But will he?_ The voice crooned, almost seeming to enjoy Richie’s ever-growing torment. Richie squeezed the wooden arms of his chair so tightly his hands ached for release. He tried so desperately to keep himself together, but then the pressure of everyone’s gaze fell upon him...and Richie fell apart with it. 

Tears poured from Richie’s eyes as images from the cavern of Eddie’s still figure invaded his head and obstructed his sight. Although Richie managed to suppress his worries at Neibolt through pure adrenaline, the fear of Eddie’s looming death taunted him from the cage he’d locked it in. 

“I was s-so scared,” Richie sniffed. He folded his arms in front of his chest and hunched forward onto himself, unable to bare looking anyone in the eye. 

“It’s okay to be scared,” Ben replied with a cautious yet gentle tone, “We were all scared.” He extended a hand to place on Richie’s shoulder, but retracted it back when Richie flinched away from his touch. 

“You said...you said he was gone, that we had to leave,” Richie cried, “But I...I couldn’t just-” 

“It was a close c-c-call, he lost a lot of b-blood,” Bill stuttered in a low voice. A look of anguish crossed his face at Richie’s words. They resonated with an awful, torturous truth. Eddie was still alive down in the cavern, and they almost left him down there to die alone. 

“...I couldn’t just… _leave_ him down there. No matter what,” Richie started, staring at Bill with wide, helpless eyes. He shivered as the mental image of Eddie’s body, abandoned and alone at the bottom of the collapsed cavern, entered his mind. “Eddie, he...he hates the dark.” 

“And we didn’t Rich,” Beverly said softly as she stood and slowly made her way over to where Richie sat. She made no move to touch him, after seeing how he reacted to Ben’s attempt, so she knelt down in front of him instead. “If it wasn’t for you, Eddie wouldn’t even be here right now. You saved him.” 

Richie tried to believe that. He tried so, so desperately to trick his mind into thinking maybe, just maybe, Beverly was right. 

But how could he, seeing Eddie like this? 

Richie shook his head. “Look at him, Bev,” He said, more tears streaming down his face. “He’s on fucking death’s door.” 

“Don’t say that,” Mike said, shooting Richie a warning glance. 

A sigh fell from Richie’s lips. “I...there had to be more that we could’ve done to help him...”

“Richie, honey,” Beverly said, taking a chance and placing her hand on Richie’s knee. She released an internal sigh of relief when he didn’t jerk away. “There was nothing more we could have done.” 

“If there w-w-was,” Bill added from the behind Beverly, “we would’ve d-done it, Richie.” 

Richie slid his glasses off his face to wipe his eyes, only to have them slip from his hand and onto the floor. He made no move to grab them. “How can you be sure?” He asked. A genuine question he needed answered. 

“We can’t be, not really,” Ben replied, making a second attempt to place a hand on Richie’s shoulder. He let him. “We just have to choose to believe it.” 

There was no way to know for sure, Richie understood that, but that didn’t stop his nagging thoughts that rattled off all the possible ways Richie could’ve saved Eddie from this living hell. Eddie didn’t deserve this. 

_This wasn’t how it was supposed to end, Eddie._

Richie collapsed onto himself again, another fit of sobs breaking from his throat. The others gathered around him, just like they had when they first arrived at the hospital in Derry, pulling each other into a wordless embrace. Richie had to fight every instinct to break free from the others’ touch, their sentiment appreciated but also confining. To Richie’s relief, however, his cries slowly shifted to nothing but muffled sniffs the longer the others held onto him. 

_You deserved so much more._

His voice was firmer and more steady when he spoke again. “...Thank you,” Richie sighed, glancing around as the others finally detached from their long embrace. “I, uh...don’t have my glasses on so I have no idea who you people are anymore, but...thank you.” 

The group chuckled softly. 

_I’m so sorry, Eds._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kettering - The Antlers 
> 
> I wish that I had known in  
> That first minute we met  
> The unpayable debt  
> That I owed you
> 
> Because you'd been abused  
> By the bone that refused you  
> And you hired me  
> To make up for that
> 
> Walking in that room  
> when you had tubes in your arms,  
> those singing morphine alarms  
> out of tune
> 
> They had you sleeping and eating  
> And I didn't believe them  
> When they called you  
> A hurricane thundercloud
> 
> When I was checking vitals  
> I suggested a smile  
> You didn't talk for a while  
> You were freezing
> 
> You said you hated my tone  
> It made you feel so alone  
> So you told me  
> I had to be leaving
> 
> But something kept me standing  
> By that hospital bed  
> I should have quit but instead  
> I took care of you
> 
> You made me sleep all uneven  
> And I didn't believe them  
> When they told me that there  
> Was no saving you


	16. Goner

“...Thank you...I, uh...don’t have my glasses on so I have no idea who you people are anymore, but...thank you.” 

The group chuckled softly, but their moment of ease was cut short when the machine closest to Eddie’s bed started to frantically beep and flash bright red. Like tumbling dominoes, the adjacent monitors began to alarm as well, creating an ear-piercing chorus of shrill beeps inside the room. 

_Oh god, Eddie._

“ _S-shit!_ ” Bill cursed, launching himself from the floor and rushing over towards the wall behind Eddie’s bed. He slammed the button Joey told them to push as his eyes darted between the alarming screens in horror. 

“Eddie?!” Richie cried out from where he shot to his feet with the others, eyeing the machines with a helpless plea. Fuck, he didn’t know what any of these alarms meant. 

Fuck, fuck, fuck!

Richie made to walk towards Eddie’s bed, but was stopped by Mike and Ben’s hands on his arms. He fought against them at first, shaking and pulling himself to try and get closer to Eddie. It wasn’t until the shouts and footsteps of approaching doctors and nurses did Richie finally submit. Figures dressed in scrubs and white coats rushed through the door, and Richie thought he saw a flash of short red hair. The Losers fell back against the walls to give the caregivers more space as they worked. A nurse ushered them out into the hall, where they watched, petrified, through the doorway. Richie’s arms trembled despite the strong grips that Ben and Mike still had on him. 

“What are his vitals?” 

“BP and heart rate are both plummeting.” 

“I think he’s hypoxic.” 

“Increase his oxygen by 10%.”

Someone leaned over the bed and placed their hands on Eddie’s chest, pressing down in a rhythmic motion again and again. 

“Careful! Not too hard or you’ll tear his grafts.” 

“Here, use a valve mask, he’s already intubated.”

Now they were injecting something directly into the tubes that fed into Eddie’s arms. 

“Push another unit of epi.” 

“He’s already maxed out.” 

One of the monitors suddenly stopped beeping, its noise replaced with a constant and steady sound as the dancing line on its screen fell into an idle state. 

Richie knew that one. It measured Eddie’s heart rate. 

“He’s flatlining!”

“Shit, _crash cart!_ ” 

One of the nurses sprinted out into the hall. The group dodged out of the way, watching her as she rolled a large cart back into the room. As the others surrounding the bed made way for the cart, Richie caught the quickest glimpse of Eddie. He looked like he did in the cavern. Like he did laying on the pavement on Neibolt. Like he did in the car with his head rest limply in Richie’s lap. 

Inches away from death’s cold embrace. 

Richie shrugged free of the hands that restrained him, slowly stepping further into the hallway. He brought his trembling hands to his face and covered it to block out the horrific sight before him. But even with his vision darkened, Richie could still hear everything. 

“Okay, hand me the paddles.” 

“Charge to 200.” 

“Clear!” 

A zapping noise, followed by a loud thud and the same agonizing sound of the flatline on the monitor. 

Not dead.

He wasn't dead.

_Not for much longer!_ The evil voice in Richie’s head cackled again, relishing the sight of Richie’s love wasting away before him. Richie’s mouth fell open as they charged the paddles again and placed them on Eddie’s bare chest. 

Eddie was dying.

And if Eddie died…

...then so would Richie.

And Richie couldn’t watch him die. Not again. 

But then, by some miraculous scheme, the doctors managed to recover a rhythm. Eddie’s heart was beating again, after stopping for the fourth time within the last day. The pulses on the monitor were weak at first, almost too faint to notice, but they slowly grew louder and stronger on the screen as the doctors continued to work with haste. 

...Fuck. 

That was close. 

That was WAY too fucking close. 

FUCK!

Cursing under his breath, Richie turned and made to walk away. Bill’s hand on his arm stopped him, however, and he was forced to turn back around. His expression was detached when his blank stare met Bill’s. “Where are you g-going?!” 

“Don’t!” Richie snapped, pulling his arm out of Bill’s grasp. It felt like the walls were closing in around him, the touch of another only heightening the sensation. “I...I just need to be alone...please.”

Richie didn’t wait for an answer. He pivoted on his heels and shot down the hallway, ignoring the calls of his friends. A dizzying wave of anguish pulsed outwards from his heart fogging his mind once again as he desperately tried to get away. A layer of sweat formed on his forehead at the same time a cold shiver crawled up his spine. 

_Eddie._

Richie had to get away from there. 

_Eddie, my love._

He couldn’t bare just standing there, watching Eddie’s life slip away, while not being able to do a single thing to help. 

_I’m so fucking sorry._

Richie wandered the hallways for over ten minutes, weaving his way around unoccupied gurneys and mobile trays that lined the walls. He hadn’t paid close attention to how he found the spot he did, but he knew he would find his way to the others eventually. 

Alone in an abandoned corner, Richie sat on a cushioned bench with his knees pulled tightly into his chest. He wrapped his arms around them, leaning against the tall, adjacent window with his forehead. The cool glass against his skin made him shiver, but the cold sensation helped ground his mind after such a traumatic ordeal. Eyes squeezed shut as tightly as they’d allow, Richie clutched his legs and held his breath. His entire body tensed as he tried to push away the dream-like scene that infested his thoughts like a parasite. An image nobody else knew existed, because he never told his friends. 

Richie saw Eddie’s death while trapped in the Deadlights. 

It wasn’t like Beverly’s visions, where she saw everyone’s slow, agonizing deaths. He only saw Eddie’s, and it was quick and fierce and sudden and painful and-

Richie cringed as the scene played again. 

Eddie was kneeling above him, peering down at him with wide eyes full of both concern and triumph. Vision blurred, Richie struggled to see his face clearly. While in the vision, he couldn’t remember how he ended up on the ground.

All he knew was that Eddie was there with him, and they were both safe. 

Until they weren’t. 

Richie remembered screaming, the colors and sounds of his vision growing so vivid he was certain it was real. He laid there, mouth agape and body splattered with Eddie’s warm blood, as he stared up at the claw that pierced Eddie’s chest. He remembered seeing Eddie being lifted off the ground and dangled in the air, as if the clown was showing off his most prized trophy. He remembered the rage that tore through his body when the clown swung Eddie back and forth in the air while he screamed in agony. He remembered how the clown tossed Eddie to the side like he was nothing. He remembered watching the last fleeting light of Eddie’s eyes fade. 

He remembered watching Eddie die. 

Then, the vision went dark. 

And when Richie first woke from the Deadlights in the cavern, by the time he’d re-oriented himself and registered where he was, it was too late. The memories of his vision struck his mind the same moment Eddie got pierced, the delayed realization tearing Richie’s already-severed heart into nothing but tiny fragments. 

Richie knew what would’ve happened to Eddie if he did nothing...he knew that if let Eddie lie against that stone ledge without packing the wound more thoroughly, he would die. He knew because he saw it happen, and he wasn’t about to let that damned clown have his way. 

Not this time. 

_If only you’d been a bit faster_ , the voice in Richie’s head sighed, _Then perhaps Eddie wouldn’t even be in this mess at all._

“What?” Richie breathed to himself, frowning. 

_You’re the one who got caught in my Deadlights, Richie._ The clown snickered with that same, awful laugh that sent a shiver down Richie’s back. 

“Shut the fuck up,” Richie muttered, forcing his hands tightly against both sides of his head to cover his ears. 

_If you weren’t so slow, your dear Eddie Spaghetti wouldn’t have needed to sacrifice himself to save you!_

“I said SHUT UP!” Richie nearly shouted, suddenly remembering where he was. He glanced up and leaned forward to peer down the hallway. Luckily, nobody seemed to be around. Richie heaved a breath, still clutching his head, waiting for the voice to come back. 

But it didn’t. 

And the worst part was, it’s absence left him with no comfort. 

Richie stayed where he was until the sun began to dip below the horizon, its orange glow sinking away and draping the world with starlit skies. He stood, remembering that visiting hours were almost over when he checked his phone to find over thirty individual text messages from the other Losers. They’d exchanged numbers in the waiting room while Eddie was in surgery, since they hadn’t had an earlier chance until then. 

Sauntering down the hospital’s quieting halls, Richie shoved his hands in his pockets and hoped he remembered the way back. It took a few tries after making an early left turn, but Richie eventually recognized the familiar sign above the nurses station in Eddie’s hallway. He slowed down upon reaching Eddie’s door before slowly nudging it open. 

Eddie laid on the bed, unconscious but still alive. 

His monitors had all returned back to normal, their steady beeps and rings filling the silence in the room. For a moment, Richie thought all the other Losers had left for the night. Around the corner, however, laid the resting form of Beverly curled up on the small couch. She stirred at the sound of Richie’s footsteps, eyes fluttering open and spotting her friend. “Richie,” Beverly sighed with relief as she got to her feet. “Hey.” 

Richie didn’t reply, or even acknowledge her greeting, in fact. He just stared at Eddie’s unmoving form on the bed. His anxious heart pounded in his chest and filled his head with its powerful rage, making it difficult to focus on anything else. 

Not dead.

He wasn’t dead.

_But for how much longer, Richie?_ The voice snickered again. _It’s only a matter of time._

“Richie, honey,” Beverly said again, taking another step closer to Richie. “I know you can hear me. I got you some water.” 

Richie slowly turned towards her, eyes falling to the glass of water that sat waiting in her hands. Beverly stared back at him with an overly-concerned expression that made his heart twist inside his chest. She reached out to him with her free hand, but he flinched away from her touch. A pang of guilt pulsed deep within Richie when he saw the hurt look on Beverly’s face as a result. 

Fuck. 

“Here,” Beverly said with a sniff, taking a step back and holding the glass higher. “Take it.” 

Knowing he wouldn’t win this fight, Richie took the glass and placed it to his lips. He drank a bit at first, planning to stop, only to quickly realize how thirsty he actually was. And now that he thought about it, he couldn’t remember the last time he drank any water. Or ate any food, for that matter. Richie downed the entire glass and placed it on the counter beside them. “...Thanks, Bevvie.” 

“Richie?” Beverly said softly. She blinked back her tears and mustered the best smile she could. “You know you can talk to me, right? I’m here for you.” 

Richie paused. Images of his visions in the Deadlights came flooding back, the clown’s rage-provoking cackle echoing behind them. Beverly got trapped in It’s Deadlights when they were kids, just like he had. He knew, that for once, someone could actually understand what he was going through. 

_I know your secret, Richie!_ The clown squealed with laughter, _Your dirty, little secret!_

But she didn’t know all of it. 

_You can’t let the others find out._ The voice warned, clicking its tongue. 

Richie’s voice cracked when he finally replied, “...I’m not ready yet.” 

“Hey, hey, that’s okay,” Bev whispered with another gentle smile, desperately trying to comfort Richie before he set himself off again. She reached up to wipe the tears that pooled at the corners of her eyes. “Let’s get you back to the hotel, alright?” 

Richie nodded, unable to look Beverly in the eyes again. He could see her grab her things from the corner of his vision before they both made their way towards the door. Pausing in the doorway, Richie took one final glance back towards Eddie. A rush of emotions nearly overflowed inside him. 

_I’m so sorry, Eds._

And then they walked out. 

_Please, just stay with me._

Ben, Mike, and Bill had driven over to the hotel a few hours prior to unload their things, and Beverly insisted on waiting for Richie at the hospital. She now drove his car, Richie sitting quietly in the passenger seat and staring out the window. Luckily, the hotel was only ten minutes away in case anything would happen with Eddie. Though small, that detail gave Richie the slightest comfort. 

“You should know,” Beverly uttered as she flipped the left turn signal and slowed to a stop at the red light. “We made some...decisions while you were gone.” 

Richie frowned and turned to her. “...Like what?” 

“Eddie’s not registered with this hospital branch or any others affiliated with it,” Beverly explained, “So he has no files or emergency contact previously registered.” 

“What d-”

“Ben wanted to call Myra,” Beverly continued, knowing what Richie’s question would be. “Eddie’s wife.”’ 

Oh.

Eddie’s wife.

Richie had been so caught up in everything else, he hadn’t even considered-

“Did you?” Richie asked, his nerves twisting in a strange manner. 

“No,” Beverly replied, eyes falling until the light turned green. Her voice was grave. “We will, but...we decided to wait and see how Eddie’s condition changed while we’re here. We think it’d be better to wait and call her if he wakes up.” 

_If he wakes up._

“...If,” Richie breathed the word tearing through his heart like a sharp-edged dagger. 

Beverly flinched and bit her lip when she realized her slip of words. “When,” She corrected, throwing an apologetic glance at Richie. “ _When_ he wakes up.” 

The pair sat in silence for the rest of the ride to the hotel. Beverly checked her texts from Ben when they walked through the revolving glass door at the front of the building. He’d sent her directions on how to get to their room. Richie trailed behind her, her words still caught like a fly in the web of his thoughts. The others had acquired the largest suite available, with three bedrooms and bathrooms. They’d been given the option of multiple smaller suites, all of which were far apart or on separate floors. After so many years of separation and everything they’d been through this week, however, even a single flight of stairs felt like too far of a distance. 

The rest of the night was a blur. 

Beverly and Richie were greeted with soft but tired smiles when they knocked on the door. Ben handed them each their own key to the room so they could come and go as they pleased, telling them how he had to ask for extra so they could each have one. Bill guided Richie to one of the three bedrooms, saying that the one at the end of the hall could be his, if he wanted. 

The room had two single beds with a nightstand in the space between them. The adjacent bedroom across the hall was allegedly the same, and Mike and Bill agreed to share it. Ben and Beverly would take the final bedroom, which held just one queen-sized bed. 

“G-get some rest, R-richie,” Bill said, shooting him a sad smile before stepping into the hallway and shutting the door of Richie’s room behind him. A flood of relief washed over Richie when Bill never brought up his sudden disappearance after Eddie’s heart stopped again. 

Richie was now left in silence, closed off from the rest of the world with nothing to distract from the thoughts that grew ever-louder in his head. He so desperately wanted to sink into the bed without even bothering to remove his clothes or shoes, but the stench of sewer water still clung to his skin despite Beverly’s attempt to clean him off earlier that morning. 

Eddie never would’ve let him go to bed like that. 

After a quick shower and heavy scrub-down with some soap, Richie finally emerged wearing a fresh t-shirt and shorts before switching off the lights and falling onto the bed. The room didn’t have a clock or any windows, so there was no way to know what time it was unless Richie got up to check his phone which he’d just tossed on the other bed. Absent-minded and alone, Richie laid still on top of the covers, allowing the darkness to envelop him entirely. His body was so exhausted, seemingly running on fumes. Beverly had gotten him to drink a large glass of water, but...other than that? Richie hadn’t eaten or drank a single thing since the morning they’d left to collect their artifacts. And he hadn’t slept at all since the night before that. 

Beverly would kill him if she found out. 

A heavy sigh fell from Richie’s mouth when his attempts to sleep proved to be unsuccessful. Despite the complete lack of energy and overwhelmingly apparent exhaustion, Richie couldn’t even bring himself to close his eyes...because every time he did, he saw Eddie’s face. 

At least, under all that pain, there was the shortest moment of bliss. 

When Richie awoke from the Deadlights, vision slowly turning less hazy, he stared at the shape of Eddie’s figure leaning above him. Eddie’s eyes were so wide as he grinned down at him, glimmering wildly in the lights swirling in the cavern. Richie remembered how his heart raced so frantically in his chest, how much he wanted to reach up and cusp Eddie’s face in his hands. 

He was so beautiful. 

But then it happened, and everything went to hell. Eddie didn’t deserve what happened to him. He didn’t deserve to suffer such unspeakable pain, to walk an unstable line while arm-in-arm with death. And to think, Richie had put him through even more pain trying to save him. Christ...he could still hear the ear-shattering screams that left Eddie’s throat when he shoved those shirts into his wounds. 

_You’re the one who got caught in my Deadlights, Richie._ The clown’s words echoed in his head. 

Richie tensed in the bed and started to sweat, tightly gripping the sheets with both hands. 

_If you weren’t so slow, your dear Eddie Spaghetti wouldn’t have needed to sacrifice himself to save you!_

Attacking while he was in his weakest, most vulnerable state, the darkness of the room swallowed Richie whole. His eyes were wide open and yet it appeared as though they were shut. Breathing growing unsteady, Richie scooted back on the bed until he collided with the headboard. The voice cackled again inside Richie’s head, seeming to feed off of his growing anxieties. 

But Richie was tired. 

He was so fucking tired. 

He couldn’t fight back anymore. 

“Maybe you’re right,” Richie spoke to the void outstretched into nothingness before him. His eyes fell shut, the vision of Eddie spearing the clown and leaning over him with pride re-entering his vision. Richie shuddered at the way Eddie’s face contorted with inconceivable pain when he was struck with the claw. 

It wasn’t fair. 

Eddie didn’t deserve this. 

“It should’ve been me,” Richie confessed to the dark with the lightest whisper, “Not him.” 

_Oh, now there’s a fascinating notion, Richie._ The voice said, its voice slow and almost soothing. _Tell me more._

The images in Richie’s present mind suddenly shifted, carrying him back to the first night they’d all arrived back in Derry. He could recall feeling a surge of happiness he hadn’t felt in years when he first caught sight of Beverly and Ben outside the restaurant. Just seeing their faces in person brought so many memories back, memories of the closest friends he’d ever had. 

And then Richie saw him. 

Eddie Kaspbrak. 

_This meeting of the Loser’s Club has officially begun,_ Richie had announced when he struck the gong. Eddie whipped around at the loud bang, the startled look on his face quickly morphing into a gleaming smile when he locked eyes with Richie.

And fuck. 

_Eddie._

It all came back. 

_Eddie, my love._

Every damn piece of it, all at once. 

Richie’s old crush from childhood? A deep but secret affection that’d grown and strengthened for years, all the way through high school graduation? Yup, still there...but somehow, it felt even clearer now than it had been before. It was like he’d been missing something so essential all those years, but hadn’t realized it was even gone until he finally got it back. 

Richie was in love with Eddie. 

A man who he’d just met five minutes prior, someone who he hadn’t seen in over twenty years. Someone he’d forgotten _existed_. And yet, someone he felt like he’d known for forever. 

Fuck. 

Richie couldn’t handle all those feelings rushing back, it was all so much he could barely breathe. 

FUCK. 

He needed to get _drunk_...so he did.

In doing so, Richie washed away the memories and blocked them out with as much humor as he could muster. It was the only way he knew how to cope with such things as a kid...and even after so many years that hadn’t changed at all. He was a comedian, for fuck’s sake. 

_Oh, that's so not funny._

_It IS funny!_

But tonight, Richie embraced the void in his room as any meaning to this life fleeted from his mind. He couldn’t even bring himself to speak anymore. 

It should’ve been him, not Eddie. 

_That’s right, Richie,_ The clown muttered in an encouraging tone. 

It should’ve been him. 

_It was all your fault,_ The voice added.

Richie sat helplessly on his bed, having given up on sleep, as he tried to pull himself back to the clarity of the present. The voice eventually vanished after a while, finally giving Richie some quiet relief. But it’s words still festered in the forefront of his mind, tampering with the very notions of his subconscious like molding a slab of clay. Sighing, Richie closed his eyes, no longer able to differentiate between what was real and what wasn’t. 

_My name is Richie Tozier._

_Eddie speared the clown to protect me, and he almost died because of it._

_Eddie almost died and I am to blame._

_I wish it were me instead of him, he deserved so much more than this._

_Eddie almost died and I am to blame._

_I’d forgotten him, and I lost all those years with him._

_Eddie almost died and I am to blame._

_There’s nothing I can do to get all those years back, all of that precious time._

_Eddie almost died and I am to blame._

_And now I might lose him again._

_Eddie almost died and I am to blame._

_And if Eddie didn’t make it out of this alive, then my life would end as well._

_Eddie almost died._

_And I am to fucking blame._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Goner - Twenty One Pilots 
> 
> I'm a goner  
> Somebody catch my breath  
> I'm a goner  
> Somebody catch my breath  
> I wanna be known by you  
> I wanna be known by you
> 
> I'm a goner  
> Somebody catch my breath  
> I'm a goner  
> Somebody catch my breath  
> I wanna be known by you  
> I wanna be known by you
> 
> Though I'm weak  
> Beaten down  
> I'll slip away  
> Into the sound  
> The ghost of you  
> Is close to me  
> I'm inside out  
> You're underneath
> 
> I've got two faces  
> Blurry's the one I'm not  
> I've got two faces  
> Blurry's the one I'm not  
> I need your help to  
> Take him out  
> I need your help to  
> Take him out
> 
> Though I'm weak  
> And beaten down  
> I'll slip away  
> Into the sound  
> The ghost of you  
> Is close to me  
> I'm inside out  
> You're underneath
> 
> Though I'm weak  
> And beaten down  
> I'll slip away  
> Into the sound  
> The ghost of you  
> Is close to me  
> I'm inside out  
> You're underneath
> 
> Don't let me be gone  
> Don't let me be gone  
> Don't let me be gone  
> Don't let me be gone
> 
> Don't let me be!  
> Don't let me be!
> 
> Ah  
> Yeah
> 
> I'm a goner  
> Somebody catch my breath  
> I'm a goner  
> Somebody catch my breath  
> I wanna be known by you  
> I wanna be known by you


	17. The Call

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: MENTION OF ATTEMPTED SUICIDE

Bill and Mike were the first to rise the following morning. 

Richie could hear their muffled voices through his closed door. He hadn’t moved from where he sat all night, his mind wandering aimlessly as he stared into the shrinking darkness in the room. It gradually receded as light poured in from beneath the closed door, dim but just enough to make out the details of the room. Ben and Beverly were up about an hour later, just in time to see Mike and Bill off. They wanted to get to the hospital right at the start of visiting hours to check on Eddie. Richie heard them say so as they passed his room on the way out. Nobody knocked on Richie’s door, though, all of them most likely under the assumption he was still asleep. 

Yeah, because Richie totally slept last night. 

Richie knew they’d come knocking eventually, it was only a matter of time. Another hour passed before he finally stood and flipped on the lights. He tripped over his bag in the process but caught himself against the bed, cursing under his breath as he palmed the nightstand in search of his glasses. Once he could see, Richie caught the shape of something in the corner of the room he hadn’t noticed the night before. His stomach dropped when he realized what it was. 

Eddie’s luggage. 

His heart picking up pace, Richie felt himself carried across the room by an invisible pull centered in his chest. He knelt in front of the suitcase that rested on its side atop the carpet, allowing his hands to ghost over its material in search of a zipper. Gripping the metal latch, Richie unzipped the bottom compartment and smoothly tossed it open. The flipped portions landed on the carpet with a soft thud to reveal a neatly-packed row of shirts and pants. Buried between the clothes, however, rested something black that immediately caught his attention. Richie reached forward to pull the object out and found himself smiling. 

Eddie’s fanny pack. 

_You fucking nerd, Eds._

Richie caressed the pack in his hands as new memories finally removed their shrouded cloaks and allowed him to see. When they were kids, Eddie was practically a walking hospital with all the stuff he crammed into his fanny pack. This pack wasn’t the same one from back then, obviously, but it was the exact same color and style. A near-perfect replica, only larger. 

_You motherfucking dork._

Richie gently placed the pack on the floor and quickly scanned the remaining contents of the suitcase. He lifted a hesitant hand and let it hover just above the first shirt in the row. Time slowing down, Richie calmly let his fingers brush over the fabric, flowing from shirt to shirt. He let his hand drift almost all the way across the suitcase until his hand suddenly stopped on top of one of Eddie’s larger grey zip-up sweatshirts. 

_You won’t mind, right Eds?_

Richie grabbed the sweatshirt and lifted it out of the suitcase with great care. He held it out in front of him, letting it unfold on its own. Without pause, Richie slipped the sweatshirt over his t-shirt and zipped it up about two-thirds of the way. It was a little tight under the arms, and the sleeves could have used a few more inches, but Richie didn’t give a shit. It gave him a strange comfort, like knowing Eddie was still right there beside him despite being all the way back at the hospital. 

_Stay with me_. 

Glasses retrieved and a new outfit on, Richie slowly swung his door open and stepped into the hall. Sunlight poured in from the tall windows ahead, washing the floors and walls with a natural golden glow. He spotted Ben and Beverly sitting across from each other at the dining table. Their heads both shot in his direction when he rounded the corner before they stood. 

“Hey, Richie,” Ben said, offering him a small but warm smile. “Get some sleep?” 

“Mhm,” Richie lied, crossing his arms over his chest with a yawn. A rush of guilt coursed through him when the pair smiled back at him with relief. 

“We were gonna head over to see Eddie,” Beverly said, “But we wanted to wait for you.” 

A small smile grew on her face, arm extending so she could give Richie a comforting pat on the shoulder. Her fingers hesitated on the fabric, running it between her index finger and thumb, perplexed. Beverly could tell the shirt wasn’t Richie’s size. Richie’s gaze fell to where her hand stopped, eyes shooting back up to Beverly with his mouth ajar. Before he could conjure the words to explain, Beverly gave his arm a firm, reassuring squeeze, her smile waning. Richie tried to smile back, but he wasn’t quite sure it came across as one. “Well,” He said, gesturing to his new change of clothes, “I’m ready to go when you are.” 

“Want something to eat first?” Ben asked, pointing over his shoulder to the counter. A pile of food sat resting on some flattened napkins. “I went downstairs and grabbed some stuff if you want anything.” 

Richie wasn’t hungry, but tried to force himself to eat when he caught Beverly’s unwavering gaze. He reached over and snatched up a bagel, muttering a quiet “thanks” under his breath while he nibbled at the edges of it. Beverly’s stare never left him, though, and Richie could feel it digging into the back of his head for the entire drive to the hospital. The trio found Bill and Mike sitting in Eddie’s room, with Bill lounged across the futon feverishly typing away on his laptop. Mike sat across the room, oddly reserved, as he glanced back and forth between Bill and Eddie. Richie peered inside from the hallway and followed Mike’s gaze until his eyes finally fell upon Eddie. 

Damn. 

It didn’t hurt any less than it had the day prior. 

Eddie laid across the bed, with the same machines and tubes all hooked up to arms, abdomen, and chest. It looked like the bandages across his torso had been changed, as well as the smaller piece of gauze on his cheek. The hardest part for Richie, though, was seeing that tube stretch into Eddie’s mouth and down his throat. It stung just looking at it. 

_Eddie._

“How is he?” Richie asked as he made a B-line straight for Eddie’s bed. He stopped short in front of its edge, terrified that if he stepped any closer he’d set off an alarm on one of Eddie’s many monitors. It was like a thin glass wall rested between them, and even the slightest gesture towards Eddie could shatter the barrier and him with it. Even so, Richie had to shove his hands into his pant pockets to resist the urge to take Eddie’s hand in his, to brush his matted hair out of his face, to caress his cheek…

 _You can’t let the others find out._ The clown whispered in his ear. 

Richie shuddered, studying Eddie’s condition more closely in an attempt to drown on the noise. The man looked even worse up close. A frightened chill ran down Richie’s back when he noticed the slightest change of color of Eddie’s skin. It was only noticeable up close, but Richie could see the lightest tinge of a yellow undertone on his arms and face. _Jaundice_ , Joey had called it. A visible sign of liver failure. 

_Shit, Eddie._

“Joey came by this morning,” Mike said, seeming to have snapped out of his previous trance, “She said he made it through the night without any complications.” 

“What about the infection?” Ben asked with a concerned frown as he stared at Eddie’s bandaged abdomen. 

“She said it was still there, but it was starting to improve,” Mike replied with a hopeful shrug. 

“Good,” Beverly said breathed a sigh of relief, a small smile growing on her face. “That’s good.” 

The others drifted off into another conversation, but Richie was quick to tune it out. He reached behind him and pulled up the chair he’d sat in the day prior, his knees just inches away from the edge of Eddie’s bed. It sounded like Eddie was doing better, yet Richie still felt terrified to get any closer. 

He’d already done enough damage, hadn’t he? 

Richie thought he heard someone call his name a few times, but he didn’t look over to find out. Instead, he let himself become lost in the haze of his thoughts as he stared at Eddie’s still face, the rhythmic beats of the monitor lulling him into a dream-like state. This wasn’t the first time Eddie had been admitted to a hospital. Oh no, certainly not the first. When they were children, Richie swore that Eddie wound up in the hospital at least once every month or two. He never really understood what for, though, Eddie always seemed fine to him. But Eddie said his mom told him he was sick…and Richie never thought past that. 

And then there was the day Eddie broke his arm, one of the few memories Richie wished had _stayed_ buried after returning to Derry. 

_Get Eddie!_

_Oh fuck, oh fuck…_

_Look at me, Eddie! Don’t look at It, look at me!_

Richier shuddered at the memory, at the sight of the clown slowly advancing towards them as its hands grew to form feral claws. He remembered how Eddie clutched his broken arm, squirming on the floor in a desperate attempt to back away. Richie had his hands on either side of Eddie’s face, begging him to look away from the clown. But none of that struck the same blow as the look on Eddie’s face when his mother ushered him into the car to take him to the hospital. The boy couldn’t even bring himself to look at his friends. He sat with his head low and eyes squeezed shut in the front seat as he clutched his broken arm. 

_I saw the well. W-w-we know w-where it is, and next time we’ll be better prepared._

_Eddie was nearly KILLED!_

Richie stared at Eddie’s unconscious face, and in it he could see the same kid that carried around his pills in his fanny pack, set timers on his digital watch for his medications, and sanitized nearly every surface he touched. He always teased Eddie about it, but in reality Richie really thought it was kind of cute. 

But after that day at Neibolt, when Richie thought he’d lost Eddie forever, a dormant switch flipped inside him. He started helping Eddie with his medications, always checked to make sure he had his fanny pack, and sometimes even went as far as to walk Eddie to the pharmacy when he needed a new prescription. Richie never really thought about why, not until he was a bit older. He’d grown protective of Eddie, and was constantly terrified that something would come along and hurt him when Richie wasn’t around. He wanted Eddie to feel safe, and if that was what did the job, then so be it. 

The ringing of a phone pulled Richie back to the present. He glanced over his shoulder, eyebrows raised, just in time to see Beverly step out of the room with her cell phone to her ear. Ben followed closely behind her. Richie shot Bill and Mike a questioning look, but they both shrugged in answer. None of them spoke when Beverly’s voice echoed back into the room, just loud enough for them to make out her words. 

“Yes, this is she…...oh thank you so much for getting back to me so quickly…...I know this is short notice…...actually, I’m actually out of town at the moment…...I probably won’t be back until next week…...yes, that could work…...uh, yes, both a divorce and restraining order……” 

Richie shot another look towards the others, almost certain that their faces mirrored his own. Concern, but also a new grave understanding. They’d noticed how quiet she’d been about her husband, how she always changed the topic whenever his name came up at the restaurant. It hadn’t taken long for them to get the hint that Beverly didn’t want to talk about it. And whatever the reason was for this phone call, Richie knew it wasn’t good. Something must have happened before Beverly arrived back in Derry. An angered rush of adrenaline pumped through his chest at the thought. Just as he’d grown protective over Eddie, Richie had always made sure to look out for Beverly. 

On Beverly’s bad days, Richie would seek out her and walk her to the quarry. They’d sit, cigarettes in hand, lounging in their secret spot under the sun, and just talk. She usually opened up about what was wrong, whether it be her father or Gretta or someone else at school. Richie had never been great when it came to talking about serious emotional stuff like that, so he always made it his goal to put a smile back on Beverly’s face instead. 

The thought of Beverly _marrying_ someone who dared hurt her was about to have a rude, harsh awakening. Richie would make sure of it. 

“......Shoot, hold on…...I’m getting another call, I…...can I call you back…...thank you.” 

“Who is it?” They heard Ben ask. 

A pause. 

“...It’s from Georgia,” Beverly breathed, that single word making the other Losers through caution to the wind as they rushed out of their seats and into the hallway. 

Stanley lived in Georgia. 

Beverly jumped when they appeared, placing a hand over her chest and exhaling loudly. Her face flushed a bit, probably from the realization they could hear what she’d been saying. Mike exited last, shutting the door to Eddie’s room behind him. Beverly’s hand shook a bit when she slid the answer button on her touch-screen. “...H-hello?” 

The others stared in anticipation, an increasing bounty of questions apparent in their expressions. They jerked back when Beverly’s eyes widened. Her gaze met theirs as she pointed to the phone with her free hand and mouthed the name ”Patricia.” She hit a button to put the phone on speaker. 

_”You called here earlier this week,”_ A female voice said from the other line, _”You said you were one of Stan’s old friends?”_

“Uh, yes,” Beverly answered, flustered. “I did.” 

Richie remembered that call. 

_”May I speak to Stanley, please?” Beverly had quietly asked in the parking lot of the restaurant._

_”There was...an accident,” Patricia replied, voice wavering. Frantic, muffled noises could be heard in the background. Richie could recall the way Beverly’s eyes widened at those words all too well, the sight manifesting a raw, untouched fear inside his chest._

_“...Bathtub…wrists...” Beverly whispered, just moments before Patricia said the same words over the phone._

It wasn’t until they’d gotten back to the Townhouse that night did Beverly confess to them what she’d seen in the Deadlights when they were children. Unable to look them in the eyes as she spoke, Beverly described her visions of their deaths, all of them slow, brutal, and painful...she told them how she saw Stanley, body slumped over the edge of a bathtub, blood spilling from his wrists…

_What? Stan’s a fucking pussy, he’s not gonna show._

Richie cringed as the sting of his own words from the restaurant crossed his mind. God, he was such an insufferable ass. 

Beep fucking beep. 

_”Is your name Beverly Marsh?”_ Patricia asked in a hesitant voice. 

“Yes,” Beverly breathed, her gaze darting nervously around the semi-circle the others had formed around her. 

A pause. 

_”Stan is awake.”_

Silence.

Inconceivable silence.

A wave of shock so impossibly weighted and that Richie nearly collapsed to his knees at the words. This wasn’t real. This couldn’t be real. Beverly saw him die, Stanley was dead. Beverly nearly dropped her phone as fresh tears sprung from the corners of her eyes. “I...I don’t understand...he...his wrists…”

 _”He was still alive when I found him,”_ Patricia said, her voice suddenly turning grave, _“But the ambulance got him to the hospital in time. He was nearly dead when he got there...and then his heart stopped for almost fourteen minutes. That’s right when you called.”_

Beverly’s mouth fell open at the words, unable to bring herself to speak as Patricia continued. 

_”The doctors hooked him up to all these machines, and they said he wouldn’t make it...that his brain had been deprived of oxygen for too long. But two days ago, early in the morning, his condition reversed completely. He got so much better so quickly, I thought it had to be a dream. He woke up just this morning, and he...he’s resting now.”_

-Wait a goddamn minute.

Two days ago…

Early morning...

Oh, fuck.

That couldn’t be right. Richie did the math in his head...once, then twice, then once more to be absolutely certain. And sure enough, it checked out every time. With widening eyes, Richie glanced up at the others to see that they’d all come to the same realization. Bill’s face paled as he leaned against the wall behind him for support. 

Two days ago, during the dark hours of the morning, they defeated It at Neibolt. 

Oh, _fuck._

“Can...can we come see him?” Beverly asked, no longer trying to shield the cries from her voice as she spoke. She sniffed, an exasperated look of shock and joy overcoming her face as the news sunk in. 

Stanley was alive. 

The image of his face was blurred in Richie’s mind, like staring at someone through a fogged-up glass window. Richie squeezed his eyes shut, pouring every ounce of energy into wiping away the condensation to see Stanley’s face clearly. Stanley was supposed to die, just like Eddie. Beverly saw their deaths in the clown’s looming visions, life leaving their eyes as they drew their last breath. But then they killed the clown and those realities, just like the one Richie had seen that displayed Eddie’s death down in the cavern, were erased. 

They’d won. 

...All of them. 

_”Actually, he wants to come to you,”_ Patricia said, _”He’s been very adamant about calling you all morning...he says you’re in Maine right now?”_

“Yes, yes,” Beverly gasped, nodding her head sharply. “We’re all here, we…” She trailed off for a moment, remembering where exactly they were. And why. “...We’re at a hospital, one of our friends was hurt.”

 _”Hurt? Oh n-”_ Patricia gasped, only to be cut off by a sudden outburst of loud shouts coming from the background. _”Stan? No, sit down! You were supposed to be asleep!”_

_”Give me the phone, Patty!”_ The Losers jumped at the sound of could only be Stanley’s voice in the background, their faces paling like they’d just heard a ghost. Another short silence fell before a new voice crackled through the speaker of Beverly’s phone. _”Bev?”_

Beverly cried out, hand flying to her mouth as more tears streamed down her face. A thud came from Richie’s side, and he turned to see Bill propping himself up against the wall with his hands clenched in tight fists. His shoulders shook as Mike reached up with shaking hands to steady him. Ben remained where he stood aside Richie, hands grasping either side of his head as he openly wept.

Richie froze with shock. 

That voice. It wasn’t Stanley’s voice, not the one he remembered. But at the same time...it somehow was. 

The familiar sound cleared the fog that flooded Richie’s mind, clearing the glass to reveal a child half his height. It was Stanley, no older than twelve. The same age he’d been when they all fought It for the first time during that fated summer. Richie didn’t know what he looked like as an adult, so hearing the deepened tone of his voice sent his mind into a panicked, overwhelmed state. 

Stanley, he...he was really close with Richie. Not in the same way he was with Eddie or Beverly, though. It was different with Stanley, it always had been. Richie could never explain their friendship...it was like Stanley somehow knew Richie better than he knew himself, like they had an unspoken language between them that nobody else could understand. They clicked. 

“...S-s-stan?” Bill started to sob as he turned from the wall and locked his eyes on Beverly’s phone. 

_”Bill,”_ Stanley gasped, pausing for a moment. _”Wait, are all of you there?”_

“Yeah,” Mike added, a shocked laugh escaping his mouth between the shallow gasps of his cries. “We’re all here, Stan.”

A weak chuckle of relief could be heard through the static of the other end of the line before Stanley’s tone quickly grew darker once more. _”What about...what...about...It? What happened, did you...”_ Stanley’s voice had grown quiet, the fear in his tone clear through the speaker. 

“Gone,” Ben answered with a firm voice. “We beat It.” 

A muffled cry slipped from Stanley’s mouth as he exhaled a very heavy breath. The group could hear the way his voice shuddered as he inhaled and exhaled again, calming his nerves. _”Who’s hurt?”_ Stanley eventually asked, a new panicked tone growing in his voice. _”Is it Richie? Eddie? I didn’t hear them talking…”_

A pause.

“Stan…” Richie forced out when none of the others answered, a new pain ripping across his heart with every word. “...it’s Eddie, Stan.”

 _”Rich…”_ Stanley breathed, his voice cracking. Hearing Stanley’s voice say his name like that gave him a strange comfort despite the verbal punches to the gut. _”Is...is he okay?”_

“It’s bad, Stan...” Richie replied, nausea striking the pit of his stomach. “He hasn’t woken up...his heart...it stopped f-four times, man...and fuck, he needs a fucking liver transplant…” 

Nothing but the painstaking crackle of static emerged from the other line for a very long time. Richie started to think they’d lost the connection until Stanley finally spoke again. _”We’re coming,”_ Stanley asserted. Another voice could be heard muttering something quickly in the background. _”No, no, Patty, I’m fine. As soon as I’m discharged, we’re coming.”_

“You take care of yourself too, Stan,” Ben said towards the phone. “We’ll be here when you’re ready.” 

A tired laugh from the other line. _”Yeah...I will, I...I’ll see you soon?”_

“See you s-soon, Stan the Man,” Bill replied, a smile forming on his mouth at the sound of Stanley’s laugh. 

And then Beverly hung up. 

Stanley was alive. 

He was alive and he was coming _here_. 

Holy shit. 

Holy fucking shit.

“I...I can’t believe it,” Beverly laughed as she leapt forward and threw her arms around Ben and Mike, pulling them close. Bill threw himself on top of them, nearly bringing everyone to the ground with him. The others laughed as Ben turned over his shoulder and held out his hand to Richie, a smile plastered on his face despite his tears. Richie stepped forward and was quickly pulled into the embrace by Ben. Richie tensed at the sheer closeness to everyone, his already-racing mind struggling to keep up with the ever-growing overstimulation surrounding him. Only the thought of Stanley kept him grounded. 

Stanley. 

His best friend. 

He was _alive_. 

The Losers all held each other tight, relishing the moment as they let the news truly sink in for the first time. Nobody moved for a long while, only breaking free when they had to vacate their space in the hallway to make room for a passing gurney. They slowly migrated back into Eddie’s room afterwards, the atmosphere having shifted completely. Back in the room, Richie took the same seat he’d occupied all morning. As the others’ laughs continued to fill the room, his eyes traveled back to Eddie’s face, seeming to pick up right where he left off when Beverly got the phone call from Patricia. 

_You’re not gonna believe it, Eddie._

_Stan’s alive._

_He’s alive and he’s coming here soon, and we’ll all be together again._

_Just like when we were kids._

_Stan pulled through...and if he can do it, so can you, Eds._

The desire to reach out towards Eddie crept back into Richie’s mind, driving him to extend and gentle hand to the man’s shoulder. A simple touch, to make sure Eddie knew that Richie and the others were here for him. And that soon, Stanley would be here for him, too. But the voice in his head crept back into his thoughts and tore the notion to shreds with its sharpened claws.

 _You said it yourself, Richie_ , the voice cackled, the laughing echoing through the depths of Richie’s mind. _Haven’t you already done enough damage?_

Struggling to push the voice out, Richie focused his attention back on Eddie. 

_You just need to keep fighting, alright Eds?_

The entity laughed again, much louder this time. 

_Please don’t give up on us. On me._

Richie sighed, head falling forward into his waiting hands. He wasn’t sure how long he stayed like that, unmoving as the manic laughter in his head threatened to shatter whatever sanity he had left. It wasn’t until the sound of footsteps leaving the room his Richie’s ears did he finally shift in his chair. Like turning up the volume on the radio, the sound of someone calling his name slowly captured Richie’s attention. 

“ _Richie!_ ” 

“Hm?” Richie said, head darting over to where Bill sat across the room. He had his laptop resting on top of his legs again, legs spread across the futon. But once Richie finally returned his gaze, he moved to place it off to the side and swung his legs around so his feet grazed the floor. A frustrated expression on grew on his face. 

“I c-called your name like ten times,” Bill groaned, gesturing towards Richie with his hands. “The same thing h-h-happened this morning, too.” 

“Oh, sorry,” Richie muttered, voice empty. 

“Rich, are y-you doing okay?” Bill questioned, his tone serious as his annoyed expression morphed into one of genuine concern. 

Richie’s stomach twisted. He didn’t want to talk about this right now, none of it. His heart jumped with panic as Bill stared at him expectantly, so Richie threw on a false facade and did the only thing he knew how to do. “Define okay,” Richie replied in a lighter tone, not missing a beat, “Cause I think I caught a cold from swimming through all that sewer water-” 

“Beep beep, Richie,” Bill sighed, rubbing his temples. 

“I’m fine, Bill,” Richie shot back, a look on his face that dared Bill to ask again. He built an invisible wall around himself as he waited for a response, blocking out any talk of how he was feeling and what he was experiencing. It certainly wasn’t the first one he’d built. 

“Richie, y-you’ve barely spoken a word all day,” Bill countered, shaking his head. A new desperation flooded Bill’s eyes as he tried to get through to Richie. He knew the man was hiding something, and Richie could see that he did. “You’ve been sitting there, acting like we’re not even here, and you look like you’re about to pass out. Yesterday afternoon...you d-disappeared for _hours_. I don’t think that qualifies as f-f-fine.” 

“Okay, okay,” Richie sighed loudly, struggling to uphold his stoic demeanor. “I _will_ be fine, alright? I just need...some time.”

“Some time to just keep to yourself? Not t-t-talking to us all day?” Bill pushed. He paused, studying Richie’s face and the tired eyes that stared back at him. “When was the last time you ate s-something?” 

“Yes, yes, and I don’t remember,” Richie answered plainly as if reading his replies from a checklist. 

“F-for fuck’s sake, R-r-richie, why do you think you need to do this alone?” Bill asked, louder this time, his expression begging Richie to let him in. To let him help. 

Richie stared at Bill, stunned, facade breaking with a flash of surprise. He paused, contemplating the idea of telling Bill everything. What he saw in the Deadlights, how he felt about Eddie, how this stupid fucking clown was still managing to drive him mad even though It was very much dead. A few heartbeats passed before the thought fleeted from his mind, untouched. “Bill...you don’t understand-” 

“Don’t understand?” Bill gaped back at him, hurt. A tear fell from his eye and streaked down his face. “Eddie is _our_ friend, too. _We’re_ hurting, too, Richie. But you know w-what? We’re still just Losers, all of us, and Losers stick together.” 

Richie’s eyes fell shut in regret as he realized how his words may have sounded. “Bill-”

“You were all there for me when I lost G-georgie,” Bill muttered as another tear fell, his voice low. “So why w-won’t you let us be here for y-you now?” 

Running a slow hand through his hair, Richie sucked in a deep breath through his nose. He held it for a good five seconds before calmly releasing out his mouth. “Okay,” Richie breathed, voice breaking. He physically cringed as his gaze fell to the floor in defeat before muttering a quiet apology. 

“Shit,” Bill sighed. He rubbed his face with his hands, muffling his next few words as he spoke. “D-don’t apologize...I lost my temper. It’s n-n-not your fault.” 

“I-” 

“What I’m trying to say is,” Bill continued, rephrasing what he’d said before, “We want to help you. We can clearly see you’re upset. When you’re ready, let us help you. Let us listen.” 

Richie blinked, taken aback. 

Bill didn’t stutter once. Exhaling, Richie glanced back up at him from across the room and was met with an apologetic upward curve of Bill’s mouth. Making the same face in return, Richie’s eyes slowly fell back to Eddie’s face. The tension in the room slowly started to dissipate, and Bill eventually brought himself to break the silence that fell between them. “Hey Rich?” 

“Yeah?” Richie said, his gaze not moving from Eddie’s bed. 

“Is t-that...Eddie’s hoodie?” Bill asked, cocking his head a bit as he leaned forward to rest his arms on his thighs. 

“Hm? Oh,” Richie said, panicking. He frantically dug through his brain for the first rational explanation he could come up with. A sudden warmth built up in his cheeks and he cursed to himself, praying that Bill didn’t notice. “My old jacket’s kinda toast now, so…” 

Richie paused as his eyes fell the Eddie’s sweatshirt. Bill opened his mouth to say something, but Richie beat him to it, desperate to change the subject. “Guess what else I found.” 

Bill frowned, a curious smile growing on his mouth at the sudden change in Richie’s tone. He probably thought he’d actually gotten through to Richie after all, and Richie decided to let him think that for now. Another wave of guilt struck Richie, identical to the one he felt when he told Beverly and Ben he slept well, as the lie slipped from his lips. “What?” 

Richie smiled as he thought back to this morning, the upward curve of his lips genuine. “He still has a fanny pack, he packed it with his clothes.” 

Bill chuckled and shook his head. “Some things n-never change, huh?” 

“Guess not,” Richie said with a shrug. “I’m pretty sure he raided the entire pharmacy while he was there, that thing was crammed full of pills.” 

“Well,” Bill said as he lifted his hands in defeat, unable to argue Richie’s claim. “Eddie was always the prepared one.” 

“Now that’s the understatement of the year, Billiam.” Richie said, smiling again as he glanced back at Bill. He sighed internally, relief washing through him now that the topic had changed from his feelings to making fun of Eddie. This was _much_ easier. He could do this all day. “Who the fuck carries around an _entire_ box of band-aids with them at all times?” 

Bill chuckled, shoulders relaxing. “Someone w-w-with idiot friends.” 

Richie huffed a breath through his nose, shaking his head. It was the closest he’d come to laughing since the final fight at Neibolt. “Yeah,” He agreed, “The stupidest.” 

“R-r-remember when Eddie used to keep a pair of bifocals in here?” Bill asked with a thoughtful look. 

“He kept his bifocals in his second fanny pack, not the one with his pills,” Richie answered with his eyes down, voice suddenly a bit quieter. Another memory flashed in his mind of the day they’d first met Ben down at the Barrens, and how they took him to the pharmacy to get supplies to treat the wound from Bowers’ knife. 

_Just suck the wound!_

_I need to focus right now, can you go get me something I can use to, uh..._

_Oh, what do you need?_

_Go get my bifocals, I hid them in my second fanny pack._

“Yeah, that’s right,” Bill said, quirking an eyebrow. 

Richie wasn’t sure if Bill spoke again after that, for he felt himself tumble back into a deep trench within his mind. Eddie had always been the friend who was there. Even if he didn’t want to be, or even if he was scared, he was always there. But now Richie was here and there wasn’t anything he could do to help. 

_Stan is alive, Eddie._

Unless his transplant compatibility test was a match. 

_I need you to keep fighting, alright?_

Then maybe, just maybe, Richie could undo the damage he’d done. 

_Don’t give up on me._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Call - Regina Spektor
> 
> It started out as a feeling  
> Which then grew into a hope  
> Which then turned into a quiet thought  
> Which then turned into a quiet word
> 
> And then that word grew louder and louder  
> 'Til it was a battle cry  
> I'll come back  
> When you call me  
> No need to say goodbye
> 
> Just because everything's changing  
> Doesn't mean it's never been this way before  
> All you can do is try to know who your friends are  
> As you head off to the war
> 
> Pick a star on the dark horizon  
> And follow the light  
> You'll come back when it's over  
> No need to say goodbye
> 
> You'll come back when it's over  
> No need to say goodbye
> 
> Now we're back to the beginning  
> It's just a feeling and no one knows yet  
> But just because they can't feel it too  
> Doesn't mean that you have to forget
> 
> Let your memories grow stronger and stronger  
> 'Til they're before your eyes  
> You'll come back  
> When they call you  
> No need to say goodbye
> 
> You'll come back  
> When they call you  
> No need to say goodbye


	18. Medicine

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: PANIC ATTACK

A silence fell between Richie and Bill as they sat on opposite sides of the room, absorbed in their own thoughts. While Richie spent a majority of his time fixated on Eddie, losing himself as he stared at the man’s face, he occasionally found his attention drifting back towards Bill. He watched Bill quietly click away on his laptop as he continued to work on improving the ending to his story. It was actually quite entertaining at times, especially when Bill would nearly throw his laptop across the room in rage, or smash his hands onto the keyboard and spam his documents with random bashes of letters and numbers. 

It wasn’t long before Ben, Beverly, and Mike all piled back into Eddie’s room with small bundles of plastic bags clutched in their hands. They placed them all atop the counter before unpacking the food they’d purchased just up the street from a market. There was earlier talk of going out for lunch, but the group didn’t want to leave Eddie alone for that long. 

“Thanks for g-grabbing lunch, you guys,” Bill said with a smile as he stood to join the others by the door, “How much do I owe you?” 

“Don’t worry about it,” Mike said with a shake of his head. He reached over to grab a pre-made salad and handed it to Bill, who accepted it with a roll of his eyes. 

“You d-don’t have to do that,” Bill sighed as he returned to his seat. “I can help pay.” 

“No, it’s alright. I wanted to,” Mike countered, throwing Bill a strange look. Richie frowned when he caught the expression on Mike’s face. Sad, almost, or perhaps even guilty. Richie had seen that look multiple times throughout the day, ever since Mike and Bill came to visit Eddie at sunrise. Bill sighed in defeat before picking at his salad with a plastic fork. He glanced over at Richie and, upon seeing he hadn’t stood to grab any food, turned back to Mike. Richie looked away, averting his gaze to avoid eye contact, but could still see Bill nod his head in Richie’s direction. 

Just moments later, Richie felt Mike’s presence behind him. Sighing internally, he glanced up at the man with a stoic expression. “Here, Richie,” Mike said warmly as he handed Richie a small box containing a sandwich and a plastic bowl filled with fruit. The kindest smile appeared on the man’s face when Richie accepted it, and he kicked himself for not having the strength to smile back. 

Shit, he was so fucking exhausted. 

But he couldn’t say no to Mike, even if he wasn’t that hungry. 

“Uh, thanks, Mike,” Richie muttered with a short, acknowledging nod. He placed the food in his lap, not touching it until he felt the burning stares of both Bill and Beverly digging into the side of his face. Without glancing up to meet their wrath, Richie quietly scooped up the sandwich and took a small bite. 

The sandwich was bland, but he forced it down anyways. Richie knew he hadn’t been eating or drinking enough, but how could sit there and act like everything was fine when Eddie was laying there, beaten half to death? The thought made him nauseous every time he pictured it. But, to Richie’s relief, the food did seem to calm his nerves a bit despite its poor taste. Nobody spoke much, the group too focused on eating. Richie didn’t mind, though. He actually preferred it this way, their silence was far less distracting than the times when everyone’s voices bounced around the room all at once. 

It was Mike who finally broke the quiet, though, as the others finished the last bits of their meals. “I’d like to say something,” Mike uttered quietly. He’d taken a tone that was quite serious, its tightness and low volume very out of character for him. Richie caught the quick glance he’d shot towards Bill, and how Bill gave him a knowing and encouraging nod. 

“Twenty seven years ago we made an oath,” Mike spoke, voice gentle, “A promise that if It ever came back...then we would too. And in order to keep that promise, we had to put everything we loved and cared about at risk. When I called you all here, knowing that you wouldn't remember Derry, or me...I didn’t know if you’d come. But you did.” 

A pause. 

“We...almost lost a part of our family this week. They were ready to make the ultimate sacrifice, and not only were our lives saved in the end, but also the lives of every future generation of Derry as well. A day won’t go by where I won’t think about what you all have done for our town. And I...I wanted to thank you...for being there, for coming back. And for being like a family to me.” 

“Once a Loser, always a Loser, right?” Ben asked with a somber smile, blinking his own tears away. 

“That’s right,” Mike laughed, his own tears slipping free from the corners of his eyes. He released a slow and steady breath as he looked up to the others, met with nothing but caring eyes. 

The mood lightened as everyone finished their lunches, the Losers finally starting to feel rejuvenated for the first time in days. Bill went on about his struggles to write a good ending for his story, which drew a few laughs. He received some skepticism when he said he had some new ideas for it, but as he indulged further, the others grew invested. Richie tuned out for most of it, only catching a few words here and there. His mind remained elsewhere as it played Bill’s prior accusations in his mind again and again. 

_F-for fuck’s sake, R-r-richie, why do you think you need to do this alone?_

_Oh, Richie,_ The devilish voice crooned inside his head. God, it still fucking sounded just like that damned clown. _You know exactly why_. 

Shut up.

_When you’re ready, let us help you. Let us listen._

The voice cackled. _If you let them in, they’ll find out. We can’t have that, now can we?_

SHUT UP. 

_D-don’t apologize...I lost my temper. It’s n-n-not your fault._

_Oh, but it is, isn’t it?_ The voice sighed with great exaggeration. _ALL of this is your fault. Look at him, Richie. Look at his dying body and remember your recklessness. You did this._

YOU’RE DEAD, SHUT THE HELL UP!

 _Nothing that dies in Derry ever really dies, Richie._ The voice bellowed, howls of laughter seeming to bounce back and forth inside his skull.

Tensing in his seat, Richie folded into himself and adjusted his body to face Eddie. He could barely breathe. His leg bounced at a frighteningly quick pace as he fidgeted with his hands in his lap. He never initiated any conversations himself, and only answered any questions directed at him with short, concise replies. 

The conversation shifted from talk of Bill’s book, to Mike’s ambition to drive down to Florida and settle down, to Ben and Beverly’s plan to return back to one of houses Ben owns in Chicago. The atmosphere in the room shifted a bit, however, when Beverly timidly informed the others that her divorce was officially being filed. Silence followed her declaration, but it was quickly filled with words of encouragement and support from the other Losers. 

The sound of Beverly’s voice in such a vulnerable state finally pulled Richie from his daze, his eyes opening a bit wider as his posture improved in his chair. He felt his hands clench into fists where they rested in his lap, a fierce anger flooding his body as Beverly spoke of her plans for a restraining order. Richie heard it all from her phone call, but knowing the news ahead of time did nothing to ease the pain of the sharp words that struck him so deeply. 

But then Beverly smiled, glancing over a Ben with a quick but fond expression. Richie hated that he couldn’t be there for Beverly when she really needed him, yet he also felt great relief in knowing she’d finally have someone to make her feel safe again after they all left Maine. Richie mustered the best smile he could as he quietly muttered, “I’m happy for you, Bevvie.” 

Beverly stopped short, a smile of relief overcoming her face. “Thanks, Richie.” 

“If you, uh, need me to kick that asshole’s face in,” Richie smiled, his days down in the quarry with Beverly flashing in his mind once again, “Just give me a call.” 

The other Losers laughed, their voices cut short by the sudden ring of a muffled cell phone. 

“Shit,” Richie cursed, leaning to the side to slide his phone out of his back pocket. It was his fucking manager...again. Richie hung up without answering and shoved the device hastily back into his pocket. “Sorry,” Richie added, after noticing all eyes on him again.

“Who w-w-was that? Everything okay?” Bill asked, uncrossing his legs. 

Richie sighed, rubbing the bridge of his nose and evading the other’s worried stares. He debated whether to tell them the truth, or to just brush it off as nothing. A nervous shudder erupted from his chest as he suddenly felt like he was back onstage, spotlights beaming down on him with a blinding light. Everyone’s eyes were on him. “Just my manager,” Richie mumbled, “He’s been calling a lot.” 

“Have you talked to him since, uh…” Mike hesitant on how to phrase the rest of his question. 

“Since I spazzed out onstage in front of over a thousand people and seemingly vanished off the face of the planet? No.” Richie answered, flinching at his own attempt at adding some humor to his response. He was gonna have to try _much_ harder than that if he wanted to convince the others he was alright. But then the memories of that night flooded his mind, sucking him deep into a vicious cycle of shame and embarrassment he’d felt the day Mike called him. 

_”And I said, my name is Richie Trashmouth...”_

_Trashmouth!_

_Shut up, Richie._

_Fucking perv!_

_Shut up, Richie!_

_Pussy!_

_Those voices. Richie knew those voices, they were the ones he sometimes heard in his dreams, distant yet undeniably distinguishable. But why the fuck was he hearing them right now? What the hell was happening?_

_”Trashmouth…”_

_Derry._

_The Losers._

_Bill, Stanley, Ben, Mike, Beverly...Eddie._

_Oh my fucking god._

_Richie saw it all as more images flooded his mind, the spotlights suddenly feeling so damn hot on his face. The heat enveloped his body and burned hotter than a fire as it swelled in his throat and made it hard to breathe. His heart pounded so loudly in his chest that he could barely hear the growing murmurs of the crowd at his hesitation._

_Shit, not now. Please, not right now._

_But it was too late. Richie’s body was already succumbing to the firm grasp of his panic as he desperately tried to block out the growing sounds of the audience. All Richie could hear was the Loser’s voices, voices he felt like he’d known for forever, yet almost didn’t recognize at first. He saw their faces, blurred and hard to distinguish. But he knew them, he knew them all._

_Dammit. DAMMIT._

_”I...I’m-,” Richie stuttered, stumbling back from the mic stand as his breaths quickly grew into sharp, uneven gasps. His stomach twisted in knots with a dread he couldn’t understand as his vision grew blurred and unfocused. Above Richie, the lights somehow grew even hotter, causing beads of sweat to form on his forehead and drip down the side of his face. Their brightness was blinding, and Richie felt so trapped as he lost his sight and struggled to breathe._

_Oh god, he was gonna pass out, he could feel it._

_Somebody was calling his name from the wings but he couldn’t see who the voice belonged to. Richie’s mic fell from his shaking hands, clattering against the stage with a loud series of thuds that screeched through the speakers. As the vivid images of his friend’s faces suddenly appeared in his mind, Richie’s entire childhood replaying in his head like watching a movie being fast-forwarded. An entire life he’d somehow forgotten._

_What the actual fuck._

_And then Richie found himself swaying. A pair of hands caught him just as he was about to fall, hands gripping his upper arms as they quickly guided him offstage._

Richie hadn’t known why he felt the way he did that day, not at first. He didn’t understand why he threw up when Mike called, why he felt so frightened when the Loser’s voices popped into his head onstage, why he almost passed out when he could finally remember their faces clearly. It was the clown, he later discovered, but something else as well. Something that manifested as a pool of dread in his core that ripped through his body at the sight of Eddie standing there before him at the restaurant. 

“You know,” Ben said from the seat closest to Richie, “He’s probably just worried about you, Richie. I would be too, given the circumstances.” 

“Yeah,” Richie scoffed dryly, voice growing tenser. “Or he’s just worried about my dates coming up in Reno.” 

“I can talk to him for you, if you want,” Beverly offered, her desire to help her friend very apparent in both her speech and expression.

 _No, she can’t,_ The voice countered sharply. 

“No, no,” Richie said, trying to shake the voice out of his head. He fumbled with his hands again in his lap. “I’ll text him...at some point.” 

“It really wouldn’t be a problem,” Beverly carefully pushed. 

_You know why that’s not true,_ The voice added with an eerie cackle, its words dragging out as if to tease Richie. 

“Yeah, no,” Richie said, louder this time, in an attempt to drown out the snickering fiend in his mind. Richie’s hands starting to shake where they sat in tight fists. “Don’t worry about it-” 

“Are you sure, Richie?” Beverly asked on final time, disappointment on her face. “We could call together and just see if we can postpone some of your dat-”

“And what the fuck are you gonna tell them, Bev?!” Richie snapped as his pooling anger finally broke free from its reigns. His eyes widened, a bizarre smile growing on his face that made him look near-hysterical...just like that fucking clown. “Oh hey,” Richie continued, holding a hand up to his ear to mimic a phone, “Sorry, Richie can’t come to the phone right now, he just fought a demon space clown and watched his best friend nearly die right in front of him. He needs more time to suppress his trauma before you throw him back in front of a live audience again!” 

Silence followed, the rhythmic beeping of Eddie’s many monitors suddenly feeling so distant, so quiet. 

The voice snickered with glee. 

“What?” Richie asked, bloodshot eyes darting between the Loser’s faces, “Too dark? Cause I can go back to just pretendi-”

“Beep beep, Richie!” Beverly snapped firmly, disbelief in her glassy eyes as the voice in Richie’s head fell silent. 

Richie froze immediately upon seeing Beverly’s face, crazed expression going slack as he came to his senses. He stared down at his hands as they shook, as if he’d suddenly been transported to someone else’s body and they didn’t belong to him. A frightened sensation crawled its way down Richie’s spine as he realized what he’d just said. Richie waited, too petrified to shift in his seat, for somebody else to speak. 

“Okay,” Bill said, finally breaking the silence as he stared at Richie with a newfound sadness. His hopeful expression from their earlier conversation was now gone, wasted away as if it was never there to begin with. “Let’s...f-f-forget about calling your manager. That c-can wait.” 

Richie didn’t move. 

“Richie,” Ben said, lowering his head slightly to try and look Richie in the eyes, “Don’t worry about him right now. You should just focus on yourself, okay?”

_Eddie almost died and I am to blame._

“It’s been hard for all of us,” Mike added, glancing at the others nervously, “But this isn’t something you should have to deal with alone.” 

_And if Eddie didn’t make it out of this alive, then my life would end as well._

Richie visibly flinched and squeezed his eyes shut at that one, unable to look at anyone. Not even Eddie. He shook his head back and forth, his guilt spreading like overgrown weeds in his head. It took every ounce of willpower not to lash out again. Nobody understood what he was going through. How could they? 

_I love you, Eddie._

“Richie, honey,” Beverly whispered, finally able to get Richie to look up and meet her gaze. “We want to help you.” 

“Bev-” Richie started. Beverly didn’t let him finish.

“I can’t _stand_ seeing you like this,” She added, voice unwavering and heart visibly set on getting through to her friend. “Please, just tell us what we can do.” 

Richie needed to be alone. 

Please, for fuck’s sake, just leave him _alone_. 

“It’ll, uh…” Richie started, voice cracking as he shifted his gaze back to Eddie. A pang of remorse struck his heart. How did everything get so fucked? “It’ll go away, after a while. It always does...I just have to stop--” He paused, raising his hand to vaguely gesture towards his head while squeezing his eyes shut, “-- _seeing_ it, and I’ll be fine.” 

“...Seeing it?” Beverly repeated with a frown. 

“ _Him_ , Bev,” Richie said, growing frustrated as he rocked in his seat with his eyes still shut, “Seeing him-” He stopped again, using his hand to gesture towards the bed between them. “-in the cavern...when he-” 

“Oh Richie,” Beverly breathed, her anguish all too apparent. Richie didn’t dare look at her this time, knowing that if he did, he’d break instantly. A familiar burning sensation formed in his eyes, throat closing in. The same anger he’d suppressed started to creep back into his core. He fought against it. 

“Talking about it will help, Richie,” Mike said, taken aback at the sight of his friend so shaken. “You can’t just bottle it all up forever.” 

_Oh my, is that a challenge?_ The voice retorted, feeding off of Richie’s dwelling fury. 

Richie ignored the voice and looked up, a dry laugh escaping his mouth. “Well, it’s gotten me this far.” 

“And LOOK at yourself, Richie!” Bill nearly shouted, never stuttering. “We _know_ you’re not okay. All we want is for us to be able to help you.” 

“Please,” Beverly sniffed, her soft voice a great contrast to Bill’s, “Listen to him.”

Richie shook his head anxiously as the voice in his head clicked its tongue in disapproval. “I can’t do this right now,” He muttered, almost knocking his chair over when he shot up from his seat. A sudden wave of fatigue struck him again, black spots filling his vision as the world started to spin around him. One hand quickly reached out to grab the railing of Eddie’s bed, while the other moved up to rest flatly on his forehead. 

“Whoa, Richie,” Mike said, him and the other Losers quickly standing. “You alright?” 

Richie sucked in a deep breath, facing the floor and bracing both hands on the railing of Eddie’s bed. He repeated this a few times, the group waiting patiently for him to regain some composure. “Yeah, yeah,” Richie finally answered, pausing for a moment before looking back up at them, “Just...really fucking tired.” 

“Did you sleep okay last night?” Mike asked. 

Richie hesitated, head starting to pound, as his grip on the railing tightened. “I, uh...didn’t sleep.” 

“You were up...all night?” Beverly questioned. She raised a hand, hesitating once, before gently placing it on Richie’s shoulder. He flinched a bit, but didn’t completely retract from her touch. 

“You said you slept,” Ben argued, brows furrowing. 

“I lied,” Richie replied plainly with a weak shrug. 

“R-richie, we d-didn’t sleep at all the night before,” Bill added in pained disbelief, “Or the night before that. You h-haven't slept at all...for almost four days?”

Fuck, had it really been that long? No wonder his head hurt so bad. 

Another nod. “I told you, I-” Richie explained, a pained sigh falling from his mouth as the image of Eddie bleeding out in front of him invaded his mind once again. He shivered, a sinking feeling growing in his stomach. “I don’t want...I _can’t_ see him like that, not again. But every time I close my eyes, he’s there...in my arms...and-” 

_Oh god, please._

_Please stay with me..._

_...Eddie, my love._

Richie finally broke. 

“Shit,” He muttered, voice weak. He was quick to slide his glasses off his face and cover his glassy eyes with his other hand. Sniffing, letting out a shuddering breath through his mouth. “Dammit…” 

“Hey,” Ben said comfortingly, rushing over to brace his friend, “Why don’t you lay down for a bit?” 

He didn’t want to sleep. 

He didn’t want to see him, not again...

Richie hesitated, scanning the other’s faces. Even without his glasses on, he could see that their expressions were those of fear and shock. Too weak to fight back, Richie let Ben place a hand on his back and guide him to the futon on the other side of the room. The others vacated it, moving their things off of it so Richie could sit down. They shot each other the same nervous glances as Richie placed his glasses on the counter and laid down. His feet hung off the end of it. 

Without the aid of his glasses, Richie could barely make out the figure of who he thought was Ben gesture for the others to step outside. 

“We’ll be back in a bit,” Richie heard one of them say, the voice too quiet for him to identify its owner. 

Richie sat silently where he laid, watching the blurred figure of Ben walk back into the room and pull up a chair next to the futon. “Thanks for getting me out of that, Ben,” Richie mumbled, his words muffled as he leaned his face into his arm. He’d stopped crying, but his voice still cracked when he spoke. 

Ben shook his head, sighing. “It was our fault,” he admitted, “We pushed you too hard when you clearly weren’t ready to talk about it.” 

“Everyone’s been saying that,” Richie sighed as he stared at nothing. He felt the tension leave his body as he sank deeper into the cushions. Having so many eyes on him at once was much more intimidating than just one pair. “That they’re here for me when I’m… _ready_. How could I ever be ready...for something like that?” 

Richie could feel the somber kindness of his stare upon Ben as he spoke. “You can’t be, not really.” 

“...Then what do I do?” 

“You can’t just wait around for this to go away,” Ben replied, his tone gentle yet growing in seriousness, “Because something like this won’t ever go away, not completely. You have to accept what happened, and over time, you’ll eventually learn how to live with it.” 

_Eddie almost died and I am to blame, and now I might lose him again._

_Before I even get the chance to tell him._

“What if I can’t?” Richie asked under his breath, his fearful tone prominent. 

_You know you can’t, Richie,_ The familiar voice in his mind teased. 

“Can’t what?” 

“Can’t accept it,” Richie replied as desperation flooded his eyes. 

_How could you ever accept what you’d done to Eddie when you can’t even accept yourself...or your sweet, sweet secret?_ The voice snapped with a hysteric cry. 

Grief was present in Ben’s reply. “Coming to terms doesn’t have to happen all at once, Richie. You go at your own pace, and you can break it down into as many steps are you want.” 

Richie sighed, using what remained of his strength to shut out the voice again. He stared at Ben, transfixed yet apprehensive despite his inability to make out any details of the man’s face. “How?” 

“Why don’t you start by just telling yourself things that are true?” Ben asked, tilting his head slightly. “Things that might be hard to say, but will help solidify them in your mind.” 

“Hmph,” Richie huffed a dry laugh. That didn’t go so well when he tried it himself, now did it?

Ben hesitated, his eyes resting on Richie’s face for a long time. “Come on,” He said, “Let’s give it a try. You said that you...see him, when he was, you know...” 

Richie flinched, but nodded. 

“Okay, just repeat after me and your mind will catch on after a while,” Ben said, voice calm as he spoke his next three words with resolved clarity. “Eddie isn’t dead.” 

At Ben’s answer, Richie’s eyes widened and his mouth fell open, but no words came out. He stared back at Ben’s unwavering expression, a war raging in his mind. Eyes falling shut, Richie sucked in a deep breath, nodding his head a few times. He hesitated, exhaling after a steady ten seconds. “...Eddie isn’t...dead…”

“That’s it, Richie,” Ben whispered, placing a steadying hand on Richie’s shoulder. 

Richie opened his eyes at the touch, looking up and trying his best to meet Ben’s eyes. “Eddie isn’t...dead.” 

“One more time,” Ben said with a nod, as if he knew exactly how this worked. Like he’d experienced all of this before. 

Swallowing, Richie strained his voice to form the same phrase again. “Eddie isn’t dead.” 

“That’s right, Eddie isn’t dead because he’s laying right here. It didn’t get him,” Ben said softly, leaning back and making his way to stand from the bed. “After some time, we’ll add another phrase. Then another. And we’ll keep going until you’re able to say everything you need to.” 

Richie watched Ben stand and make his way towards the door. “Ben,” He called quietly, waiting until the man glanced back at him. “Have you...done this before?” 

“Uh,” Ben looked down at the floor, arms folding across his chest. “Yeah...just with worse circumstances...when my dad...when he-” 

Richie shot him an understanding look, silently telling him he didn’t need to finish his explanation. Hesitating, Richie tucked his head back into the nook of his folded arms. A new wave of exhaustion suddenly struck him. Richie let his body relax atop the futon, staring back at Ben with very tired eyes. “Thanks, Haystack.” 

Ben smiled softly. “Get some rest, alright?” 

Richie nodded as Ben stepped out of his room, closing the door behind him.

“Eddie isn’t dead,” Richie muttered to himself as he finally let his eyes succumb to the heavy weight of exhaustion that had befallen them. “Eddie isn’t dead.” 

_But for how much longer?_ The voice in his head pondered, almost making the statement sound like a threat. 

“Eddie isn’t dead.”

_Look at him, Richie. His body is failing._

“Eddie isn’t dead.” 

_Do you think he could actually recover from this? That he’ll wake up?_

“Eddie isn’t dead.” 

_Because if you do, you’re even more of a fool than I took you for._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Medicine - Daughter 
> 
> Pick it up, pick it all up  
> And start again  
> You've got a second chance  
> You could go home  
> Escape it all  
> It's just irrelevant
> 
> It's just medicine  
> It's just medicine
> 
> You could still be  
> What you want to  
> What you said you were  
> When I met you
> 
> You've got a warm heart  
> You've got a beautiful brain  
> But it's disintegrating  
> From all the medicine  
> From all the medicine  
> From all the medicine  
> Medicine
> 
> You could still be  
> What you want to be  
> What you said you were  
> When you met me
> 
> You could still be  
> What you want to  
> What you said you were  
> When I met you  
> When you met me  
> When I met you


	19. Zelda

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: HOMOPHOBIC SLUR (ONE), INTERNALIZED HOMOPHOBIA, BLOOD/GORE

_The jagged stone walls rumbled as the clown extended his arm down the narrow tunnel, claw snapping as it tried to snatch Richie and Eddie in its grasp. The pair darted away from the clown and came to a sudden halt when they hit a dead end, out of breath and mouths hanging open. Richie had his hand tightly clenched to Eddie’s wrist. Three doors appeared before them, each painted with words written in blood that seemed to defy the laws of gravity. Red droplets tumbled up towards the top of the door panels, leaving bright red streaks in their path. Richie read the words on painted on the doors, shining his flashlight on each as he did._

_Very scary...Scary...Not scary at all._

_”Um, not scary at all, right?” Eddie asked, taking a step towards that door._

_”No, no, no, no, no, no, they’re uh...they’re flipped!” Richie shouted, eyes squeezed tightly shut as he remembered his and Bill’s first encounter with the same doors back in the well-house all those years ago. He knew better this time. “He’s fucking with us!”_

_”Are you sure?”_

_”Trust me!”_

_”Are you positive?!”_

_”YES!”_

_”Okay…”_

_Richie led Eddie to the door etched ‘Very Scary’ and secured his hand around the cold, metal doorknob. He paused, swallowing his nerves, as he slowly swung open the rotted, creaking door. Beyond the door was just darkness at first, an empty void that seemed to have no end. But as Richie’s eyes adjusted, he caught sight of the slightest shimmer of light against a chain that hung from the rocks above. He raised a shaking hand yanked it downwards. The chain clicked, a bright light flooding the area inside the door._

_A closet appeared, with a rack of clothes hanging between the walls of the tunnel._

_Richie could feel Eddie tense beside him, anticipating the worst. Any second now, something would come bounding out of the void beyond, just like the disfigured legs had back at the well-house. It was then that the glow from the lightbulb seemed to grow in intensity, illuminating the void that stretched beyond their sight. A chill crawled up Richie’s back when he spotted a small figure hunched over something just past the light’s reach._

_”Rich?” Eddie asked, voice trembling, taking a step backwards. “What is that?”_

_Richie strained his eyes to see, but saw nothing but a black silhouette. It was small, and could have only belonged to a small kid. “I don’t kn-”_

_”Eddie?” A child’s voice called from the shadows. Richie’s heart dropped as the figure stood, the sound of its voice and outline of its body suddenly all too familiar. “Is that you?”_

_Oh, no._

_No, no, no, no, no._

_Richie tried to shut the door. He lunged forward, throwing the force of his entire body towards the door frame with his hand extended outward. But when his hand collided with the rotting wood of the door...it burned his skin. The door lacked any visible fire, yet it was as hot as an open flame. Hissing and clutching his seared hand, Richie cursed as he watched the figure step into the light._

_”Eddie!” The figure cried out with joy when its eyes fell upon Eddie standing just outside the door, the light of the bulb above shining down on its youthful face. Its appearance accurately mirrored that of twelve-year-old Richie to a terrifying point. It wore jeans, a floral shirt, and those old glasses that magnified the size of his eyes three-fold._

_”That’s you...” Eddie gasped with wide eyes, silently begging Richie for an explanation. “What is this?”_

_Richie swore he felt his heart stop when he caught the childlike figure slipping the pocket knife he’d been grasing into its jean pocket. In its other hand rested a tightly-gripped wooden plank._

_Oh god, no._

_No, no, no, no, no._

_Richie tried to lunge again and swore when another figure, this one much larger, emerged from the void and passed through the doorway in a flash. It seized Richie’s arms in a painfully-tight grip behind his back, eliciting a yelp from Richie._

_”Where do you think you’re going, faggot?” The larger figure muttered in his ear, its voice a near-flawless mimic...of Bowers. Richie whipped his head around as he struggled against his attacker, face paling when he spotted a bloody axe wedged into the man’s skull. It stuck out into the air above him, shaking back and forth as Bowers threw his head back and bellowed a hysterical laugh. Streaks of blood dripped down his face and stained the whites of his eyes._

_”Richie!” Eddie cried out in a panicked shout. His eyes widened when he spotted Bowers, hand instinctively reaching up to touch the cheek the same man had stabbed. Hands balling into fists of rage, Eddie threw himself forward and-_

_”Eds, look!” The smaller figure shouted in a out-of-place and eager tone as it leapt in front of Eddie to block him in his tracks. He shoved the wooden plank forward with both hands and angled it directly towards Eddie’s face. “Look what I made for you!”_

_”Eddie, wait!” Richie tried to shout as he thrashed against the hold of the larger figure. But he was too late._

_Eddie stared at the plank, his frightened expression dissipating before Richie’s eyes as a new, unfamiliar look overcame his face. Richie felt himself shrink under the figure’s strong clutch when Eddie’s face shifted from confusion to shock to...anger._

_”Eddie…” Richie shakily breathed, fear gripping his heart into an inescapable deadlock. The way Eddie looked back at him struck harder and deeper than any dagger, pain ripping through his chest and making it harder to breathe._

_”...Is it true?” Eddie grimaced as he slowly backed away from Richie. He shook his head back and forth, barely able to look Richie in the eyes. “You...you’re…”_

_”Eddie?” Richie gaped, watching with pure horror as Eddie abandoned him._

_The two figures suddenly turned to dust, their remnants drifting through the air as the wooden plank clattered to the ground. Stomach sinking, Richie extended his hands towards Eddie, only to have the man jerk flinch away from him in fear. He froze where he stood, arms still extended in a desperate attempt to explain, when Eddie let out an ear-piercing scream._

_A spray of blood burst from his chest._

_The room shook, knocking Richie forward and onto his knees. He caught himself by the hands, ignoring the stings of pain that shot up his arms, and looked back up towards Eddie. Richie blinked at the sudden change in scenery, temporarily disoriented. They were back out in the cavern now. Richie spotted Eddie laying before him, clutching the large wound that tore through his chest, except...his clothes were different. Eddie wore a light yellow t-shirt, and those shorts he used to wear that were almost as red as the blood that poured from his chest. Glancing down, Richie saw that the same had happened to him, for he was now wearing the same outfit the young figure had donned._

_They were both twelve again._

_”Oh shit, Eds,” Richie muttered. His voice trembled as he reached up to adjust his glasses. The shaking in his hands wouldn’t stop, even when he clenched them into the tightest fists he could make. “We gotta get you out of here,” He said, extending his arms to put pressure on Eddie’s wound._

_Eddie, who’d been previously preoccupied with his wound, suddenly shot his head up to look at Richie before inhaling a sharp breath and jerking away. “You’re... you’re one of them!” He snapped, eyes filled with both rage and disgust, “Don’t fucking touch me!”_

_Richie thought he knew what heartbreak felt like, but shit, he’d never been so wrong._

 _”Eddie, please,” Richie begged in a broken voice, reaching out again. “Eddie it’s...it’s me...it’s Richie…”_

_”Stay away from me!” Eddie jerked back even further as he hacked up another mouthful of blood. “Do NOT fucking touch me!”_

_Every word burned another hole in what little was left of Richie’s heart._

_”Eds...p-please let me help you,” Richie said as he started to sob. Teardrops streaked his glasses, his lenses fogging up. He whipped his head around in desperate search of help, and he found himself surrounded by the other Losers. They were all kids again, too. “...What the hell are you all doing?! Don’t just stand there, help me with him!”_

_No response._

_The others remained where they stood, backs straight and arms flattened at their sides. A fire sparked in their eyes, their stares breaking into Richie’s mind as they tore across his skin and left searing burns. Richie stood, an overwhelming wave of grief nearly knocking him over when the others recoiled as he approached._

_”Guys…it’s me,” Richie cried, stumbling backwards as the others’ stares seemed to pierce his soul._

_”You...like Eddie?” Bill grimaced with a horror-struck expression directed at Richie._

_”I...shit,” Richie started, heart in his throat as he forced himself to answer. “Yes, I-”_

_”But you’re both boys,” Beverly countered in disgust._

_”I told you they couldn’t find out your secret, Richie,” The voice boomed within the cavern, shaking the walls._

_Richie wept as he reached out again and took a single step forward. The others responded in-sync, taking a single step away from him. Their stares morphed into the disturbed expression Eddie still wore as Richie frantically glanced between them._

_“...Please,” Richie whimpered as anguish struck his chest, “Don’t do this…”_

_”Look at what would happen,” The same voice warned, “If they knew your secret.”_

_A pained groan pulled Richie’s attention back to Eddie, who now laid unmoving against the rocks. His breathing grew shallow, chest barely rising as his eyes started to drift shut. Richie screamed as Eddie’s hand that once clutched his wound now slid off his chest and fell limply at his side._

_”Eds?” Richie gasped, tears flooding his eyes again. He tried to run over, to get back to Eddie so he could help him, but he couldn’t move. “Eddie!”_

_Eddie’s chest fell once more, and didn’t rise again._

_His eyes were still open._

_”EDDIE!” Richie screamed, tearing at his invisible restraints to no avail, “EDDIE!”_

A blinding light tore at Richie’s eyes as he gasped for air and launched into a sitting position, sweat coating his forehead and hair. Richie felt lost, adrift in an endless space as the scene still playing before him left him numb. He lost sensation of the world around him as his eyes stared at nothing, lost in the dark abyss of his thoughts that he’d dug himself. A chill surged through his body as a single thought invaded the forefront of his thoughts. 

_Eddie._

Richie didn’t even register the voice that called his name until he felt a pair of cold hands grasping either side of his face. He jumped at the cool touch of fingers on his skin, instinctively recoiling just as the others had done to get away from him down in the cavern. 

_Eddie needed his help._

“Richie!” Beverly cried out after many attempts, both frustration and worry mixed in her voice. She leaned over him with one knee balanced on the edge of the couch, and the other supporting the rest of her weight against the tile floor. 

“Eddie,” Richie breathed, eyes landing on Beverly as she brushed Richie’s hair out of his face. He panickedly searched over her shoulders, flustered. “Bev, where’s Eddie-”

He cut himself off when he spotted Eddie atop a hospital bed, unconscious and unresponsive. Sucking in heavy breaths, Richie’s eyes darted across his surroundings as he finally recalled where he was. 

Hospital room. 

Eddie was hurt, but alive. 

And nobody knew his secret. 

“Richie…” Beverly gasped, eyes widening with fear as her hands slid down to either of Richie’s shoulders to help ground him. He tensed even more under her gentle touch as he fought every instinct to push her away. 

_Don’t fucking touch me!_

Richie stared back at her, his breathing fast and ragged, as he studied Beverly’s expression. He could see the concerned grief behind her glassy eyes, feeling his own face shift to horrified understanding. “Bev, fuck,” Richie cried, his eyes squeezing shut, “FUCK!”

A dream. 

It’d just been a dream...a world-shattering nightmare. 

It was a scene that Richie often dreamt of as a kid, except it used to take place inside the well-house at Neibolt rather than the buried cavern. Before today, it always took place during the moment Eddie broke his arm and collapsed through the rotting, wooden floor. It was a terror that would wake him up so violently, Eddie would almost always wake up beside him. He often asked what his dream was about. Richie never spoke of that one, and though he was disappointed at his friend’s reservation, Eddie never pressured him to do share. 

Instead, they’d go outside and lie beneath the stars, whispering into each other’s ears so softly that their voices often carried with the light spring breeze of night. But now, Eddie wasn’t here to calm him down, and there were no stars in the daytime sky for him to count. 

In one fluid movement, Beverly shifted so that she sat in the corner of the futon, Richie right in front of her. She reached forward, placing her hands back on his shoulders. A rush of sadness overcame her face when Richie jerked away from her touch once again. Waiting a moment, Beverly repeated an identical motion and received a much smaller flinch in response. Richie remembered the way the others jerked away from him in the dream, how they looked so scared and disgusted with him…how Beverly glared at him with such pure hatred. 

_But you’re both boys._

Every single instinct in Richie’s body told him to get away from Beverly. They told him to go run and hide and isolate himself from the others so that he could be safe and away from the group’s intense gaze. One that would rip his soul apart and devour his secrets until nothing left of him remained. 

But it was just a dream. 

Right?

 _Don’t be so sure, Richie,_ The voice warned from the shadows. 

Beverly gingerly pulled Richie towards her, angling his torso so that he leaned against her. Her free hand guided Richie’s head to rest on her shoulder. The man’s form was tense and stiff when he first leaned against Beverly, his entire torso trembling almost as intensely as his clenched hands. But even so, Beverly held Richie as tightly as she could with an arm around his shoulders. 

Her hand gently traced circles back and forth on Richie’s upper arm, it felt nice. 

Releasing a heavy breath, Richie scrunched his eyes and tried his best to push away the vivid pictures of his dream. But even the awareness he’d developed over the years that these dreams were in fact just dreams, he could never erase the raw, unchained emotions that collected and morphed in the deepest part of his core. 

_Do NOT fucking touch me!_

An ever-growing fear that his friends would reject him, turn him away, and never speak to him again...if they knew about his secret. 

_You...you’re...you’re one of them._

Consumed with frustration of his grief, Richie let himself sink down until his head was nestled most tightly onto Beverly’s shoulder. A few moments passed before he lifted his arms, and with great hesitation, wrapped them around Beverly’s torso. Richie trembled against her, eyes still squeezed tightly shut. 

_Stay away from me._

“It’s okay to cry, Richie,” Beverly said gently, reaching around with her free hand to run it through his hair. Almost instantly, Richie let his burning tears fall, burying his face into Beverly’s neck. “I’ve got you,” Beverly whispered, “It’s okay.” 

Beverly held him so tenderly, slowly stroking his hair with a gentle caress of her hand. And when Richie started to cry harder, she held him tighter. His tears fell upon her shirt, leaving darkened marks that Beverly paid no mind to. 

“Bev?” Richie heard Bill say from the doorway. 

Richie cringed at the sound of his voice, heart starting to race in his chest at the idea of all the other Losers seeing him like this. He’d never felt so weak, so vulnerable...and he remembered how the others all stared at him before. All of their eyes planted on Richie as they bore into his mind, searching for a secret they didn’t even know existed. It ate him up, a fear building up inside him so fierce that his breaths turned choppy with his intensifying panic. Shifting, Richie buried himself even deeper into Beverly’s embrace in an attempt to better hide his face from the group. 

“It’s okay,” Beverly answered softly, “He’s okay. Just a nightmare.” 

Richie heard footsteps, the sound of a sink switching on and off, followed by the light thud of something glass being placed on the table next to him. And then the same footsteps faded away and out of the room. Neither Richie nor Beverly spoke for a while, until Richie finally seemed to calm himself down enough to shift where he laid. Using all of his effort, he pushed himself up so that his head rest on the back of the futon next to Beverly. He glanced up at his friend, who continued to slowly stroke his hair even after he moved. “Eddie almost died,” Richie whispered, sniffing. “He...almost died, Bevvie.” 

Beverly, who heroically managed to maintain some form of composure throughout the ordeal, suddenly broke at the weakness in Richie’s voice. A few tears slipped from the corners of her eyes, but she made no move to wipe them away. She nodded as she cried, resting her hand on the side of Richie’s face. 

“But he isn’t dead,” Richie added, voice somehow even quieter than it was before. He replayed Ben’s phrase in his head over and over again until he found the strength to speak it once more himself. “Eddie’s still alive.” 

_Not for much longer, if he doesn’t get that transplant,_ The voice in his head reminded him with an eerie tone. 

Beverly nodded, eyes closing for a brief moment. 

_Do you think he could actually recover from this? That he’ll wake up?_

“I’m so scared, Bevvie,” Richie admitted, voice cracking as looked back up to meet Beverly’s gaze. A single tear spilled down his face as he spoke. “What if...what if he doesn’t get better?” 

_Because if you do, you’re even more of a fool than I took you for._

“He will,” Beverly answered, pulling Richie close again. She leaned in close, planting a gentle kiss on the top of Richie’s head. 

Richie frowned as heard the words she’d said to him the night before occupied his mind. 

_We think it’d be better to wait and call if he wakes up._

_...If?_

_When. When he wakes up._

“Do you really believe that?” Richie asked, not bothering to mask the skepticism in his voice. He sniffed, reaching up to wipe away the remaining streams of tears from his face. Grief filling his heart, Richie averted his eyes, unable to look anywhere in the direction of Eddie’s bed. 

Beverly tensed for the quickest moment, and Richie knew it’s because she remembered the same conversation he had. Her hand stilled on his shoulder for a moment before slowly starting to move again. “Yes,” She nearly whispered, “I do.” 

When Richie didn’t answer, Beverly carefully slid out from underneath Richie’s weight and stood. She shuffled her way over to the window above Eddie’s bed and undid the latch that kept it locked up tight. With a flick of her wrist and a slight shove from both hands, the window creaked open. The afternoon breeze filled the room, its warm swell brushing against Richie’s face and weaving through his hair. Rustling leaves on the trees outside could be heard in the wind as they gracefully danced back and forth, generating swaying sun-spots on the floor of Eddie’s room. 

Beverly said nothing as she made her way back to her spot next to Richie. She sat down, smiling to herself when Richie immediately leaned against her. Richie didn’t notice the glass of water in her outstretched hand until she practically waved it in front of his face. With a quick nod of thanks, Richie accepted the glass and drank as much as his body would allow. The coolness of the drink, along with the gentle wind from the cracked window, waved away the overwhelming heat that formed in his body while he slept. Another breeze struck the pair as Beverly lifted an arm and placed it around Richie’s shoulders. They both stared at the open window, becoming mesmerized by the sounds that filled the awful, heavy silence of the room. 

A small bird flew by and landed near the windowsill, the sweet chirps it sang lighter than the chime of a bell. Another bird joined just moments later, and together, they intertwined their tweets to compose a soothing melody of whistles and cheeps. 

Stanley would’ve loved it if he were here. 

There was quite a bit Richie had yet to recover with Stanley, his memories of him sealed away in the deepest vaults of his mind. But one of the few details Richie recalled almost immediately was Stanley’s love of birds. He remembered the few times Stanley dragged him out at sunrise and took him to some of his favorite spots in the woods. Richie knew Stanley enjoyed it, so he really tried to as well. But no matter how hard he tried, Richie just couldn’t sit for that long without moving or speaking. Stanley noticed after a few trips, and stopped forcing Richie to go with him. He scared away the birds. 

As the day drifted on, Richie finally found some comfort as the bird pair’s song swept away the dwelling voice in his mind that he’d grown so quickly to despise. But the clown never truly left him alone. It whispered sinister things to him when the birds ceased their whistling calls. 

The dark notions from his traumatic dream still loomed inside him, but Beverly’s embrace helped keep the darkness away. He could hear the voice that came out of her younger self in his vision, the harshness and evil tone still shaking him to his core. Richie knew Beverly would never say such a thing, but that did nothing to rid his mind of the paranoia and dread that accompanied the thought whenever it crossed his mind. He could hear the clown’s voice muttering nonsense in the subconscious center of his head, trying to convince Richie that the fear he felt was just. That his paranoid state did not exist without cause, that what the Losers said to him in his dream was real. Richie, too preoccupied with his own thoughts, didn’t even realize how much it was working. 

_Eddie almost died._

But Richie’s body was so damn tired, so desperate for rest. 

_But he isn’t dead._

So he listened to the birds’ song and, after letting his mind wander into the void within his head, Richie was finally able to drift back to sleep. 

_He was still alive._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Zelda - The Antlers 
> 
> Zelda  
> You asked me to wake you  
> If I woke up before you  
> And you were still stuck inside
> 
> I'm here to tell you, "We're not awake yet"
> 
> Zelda  
> We live between two worlds  
> A tunnel with two lights  
> Pitch black in the middle  
> Like a dream's dream  
> A copy's copy
> 
> Zelda  
> It's just not important  
> The small things we suffer  
> They're infinitesimal
> 
> We swim in an ocean  
> It swims between us


	20. Fear of the Water

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: DESCRIPTIONS OF DROWNING, MINOR MENTION OF SELF-DEPRECATING/SUICIDAL THOUGHTS

Richie couldn’t recall whether he’d truly fallen back asleep, or if he’d just drifted in and out of a sleep-like state in which dreams merged with reality. He’d been spending a lot of his time in that realm as of late. It left him feeling just as exhausted as he’d felt before, but it all honestly? Richie preferred it that way. 

Anything was better than reliving that horrible dream again. 

The window was sealed shut once again when Richie finally sat up and rubbed his eyes, the world beyond the glass a haunting black shadow. He frowned when his hand fell to the cushion beside him, meeting nothing but cool fabric where Beverly’s form had laid. A nervous chill down Richie’s back when he glanced around to realize that Beverly wasn’t in the room at all. 

This was the first time he’d been alone with Eddie since the fight. 

Heart thumping loudly in his chest, Richie snatched his glasses and swung his feet over the edge of the cushions, pushing himself forward to stand. His eyes fell on Eddie as he grabbed the nearest chair and pulled it up to the bed as close as it allowed. Fuck, he looked even worse than he had just a few hours ago. Richie sank into the chair, the atmosphere around him growing hazy as he stared down at Eddie’s hand. Shaking a bit, Richie extended his own hand and let it hover just above Eddie’s. 

_It’s okay,_ He thought to himself when he couldn’t bring himself to move any closer, _Nobody is here, nobody will know._

Exhaling, Richie let his hand fall to delicately rest atop Eddie’s. He squeezed his fingers tightly, a sudden rush of sadness swelling in his chest. Richie hadn’t touched Eddie since they’d arrived at the first hospital in Derry. He was so scared Eddie would shatter under his touch if he did, and because...the others would find out that he…

“Hi Eds,” Richie muttered. Flashes from his dreams appeared in his mind, the sight of Eddie staring at him with such horror and disgust sending another pang of hurt directly to his heart. Then the picture shifted to show Eddie sprawled out in front of him as blood soaked his chest and seeped through his clothes. Richie exhaled a shuddering breath as he squeezed Eddie’s hand a bit harder. 

Fuck, his skin felt so cold. 

“Eddie, listen man,” Richie whispered, relief washing his voice as the pictures in his mind began to fade with Eddie’s touch. Propping both elbows on his thighs, Richie reached to clasp Eddie’s hands in both of his. “I need you to keep fighting, okay?” 

A deafening silence filled the room when he paused, his stomach sinking at the sensation. 

Eyes growing glassy, Richie leaned forward as he brought Eddie’s hand closer to him. His forehead fell against his hands before he clutched Eddie even tighter. The vivid images that flooded his mind were now nothing but a foggy shape, distorted through the thickening haze. It provided him with the escape he so desperately longed for. 

Richie nearly sobbed with relief. 

With a quick glance at the door to make sure nobody was around, Richie sat back again and adjusted his grip so that the back of Eddie’s hand was visible. A single tear slipped from his eye as he leaned down and planted a gentle kiss on Eddie’s hand. “Stay with me, Eds,” Richie whispered for the first time out loud, his nose ghosting just above Eddie’s hand. “Please…” 

The sharp knock of knuckles on the door made Richie leap back into his seat with a startled gasp. His hand flew to his chest to settle his raging heartbeat as he whipped his head towards the doorway. Joey stood quietly, face paler than normal, her clipboard clutched tightly to her chest. How long had she been standing there?

Fuck, fuck, fuck!

“Sorry,” Joey flinched at Richie’s reaction, offering him an apologetic smile. “I didn’t mean to frighten you.” 

Richie brushed it off with a casual shake of his head as he took a few deep breaths to calm himself down. At least it hadn’t been Beverly standing in the doorway. The mere thought of that version of events amplified his anxiety ten-fold. “What is it?” Richie eventually asked.

Joey’s mouth fell open, but no words came out, and Richie’s heart jumped in fear at the sight. He knew that look. It was the same look she’d given them before telling the group Eddie would need a liver transplant. 

“What’s going on?” Another voice asked. Beverly strode into the room moments later, her gaze shifting nervously between Richie and Joey. “I was making a phone call down the hallway and I saw you come down here,” She said as she gestured towards Joey, “Is Eddie alright?” 

“I just came by to see if any of you were still here, or if you’d already left for the night,” Joey admitted as she anxiously tapped her clipboard with her fingers. “I have the results of your compatibility tests.” 

A rush of urgence burst in Richie’s chest. He wanted to jump out of his chair and dash forward at the hope of possibly helping Eddie. To finally have a chance to reverse the damage he’d done. 

But Richie didn’t move. 

He could already see answer on her fucking face. 

“I’m sorry,” Joey said quietly as her eyes fell to the floor, “He’s not compatible with any of you.”

_Useless_ , The clown spat in a guttural tone in Richie’s head. _There’s nothing you can do for him now…_

Richie let his head fall forward, desperate to mask the rage that flowed through his veins with a surging force. 

_...except stand aside and watch him slowly die from the wounds you brought onto him._

The sound of a heavy exhale from Beverly could be heard from where Richie sat. He didn’t move, allowing Beverly to speak for them both as his entire body seemed to lock up. If he so much as flinched right now, he knew he’d snap. “So,” Beverly breathed dismally in defeat, “What do we do now?” 

“Well, we need to clear Edward’s infection first. It’s nearly gone, which is good,” Joey said in a firm and stoic manner. “And once that’s clear, we can put him on the transplant waiting list.” 

Richie glanced back up at them with blurred vision from the tears that welled in his eyes. He clenched his fists so tightly in his lap, his nails digging so harshly into his skin that he drew a bit of blood. The pain of the sting didn’t even seem to register in his brain when he didn’t so much as flinch. Joey met his eyes, an expression flashing across her face that Richie couldn’t quite read. “I’ll keep you updated,” She said, her eyes not leaving Richie’s as she spoke. “I’m...really sorry.” 

“It’s not your fault,” Beverly offered with a weakened smile and a gentle reassuring squeeze on Joey’s upper arm. “Thank you for letting us know.” 

“Of course,” Joey muttered solemnly before she stepped out of the room and strode down the hall. 

_You’re the reason he’s here,_ The voice in his mind recalled with a click of its tongue. _And now he’ll never leave this place because you couldn’t save him...again._

Richie didn’t move when Beverly approached him, and didn’t react when she pulled him into a hug. She said something to him, nothing more than a brief whisper in his ear, but the noise in his head blocked it all out. 

_It should’ve been you instead of him,_ The voice droned on, its presence dancing back and forth inside Richie’s head until it physically ached. 

Richie didn’t speak when Beverly drove them back to the hotel, and didn’t move to get out of the car until Beverly opened his door and guided him out. He didn’t remember how she’d gotten him upstairs or down the hallway to their suite. Any memory of the trip had evaporated from his mind like a thinning fog. 

_Your life is worthless,_ The voice cackled uncontrollably, its laughter sending a chill through Richie’s body. _YOU are worthless!_

Richie didn’t answer the others when they asked him what the doctor said, and didn’t dare look anyone in the eye as Beverly explained what happened with an anguished voice. That wasn’t even the worst part, not by a long shot. 

_You don’t deserve to live while Eddie gets one step closer to death by the day,_ The voice said, attempting to plant a new seed in his mind. He watered it with harsh whispers and threats, anchoring it to the ground and helping it grow. An overwhelming anger flood Richie’s core, growing in intensity with every word the Loser’s spoke. 

“She said his infection is almost gone, and as soon as it is, he’ll be put on the transplant list.” 

“That’s good, right?” 

“Yeah, really good.” 

“It shouldn’t take too long, he’ll probably be near the top of the list.” 

“They’ll find a donor soon, and then he can start to get better.” 

“Wake up, even.” 

“You think he’ll be okay?” 

“Yeah, I think he will be.” 

“Me too.”

Fucking hell. 

Richie threw his arms down and stormed down the hall, unable to swallow another second of the group’s optimistic, hopeful bullshit. Did none of them actually _look_ at Eddie today? Could none of them see how much his condition has worsened, how weaker he looked by the fucking hour? Could they not see the life draining from his body?

Hearing the call of his name from down the hall, Richie slammed the door of his room shut to block out the noise. He flipped the lock, spotting the movement of shadows against the light that shone in beneath his door. They stopped right outside his room as Richie braced himself for the sound of a rasping knock at his door, but the sound never came. And the shadows drifted away into the light, while Richie dwelled in the dark. 

Fuck, he needed Stanley. 

Stanley wouldn’t stand for any of this, either. He was the most brutally honest person Richie had ever met. Stanley was a realist, always had been, even if it made him an asshole sometimes. But Richie needed it right now, it grounded him like nothing else could. He remembered back to their long talks in the Clubhouse when nobody else was around, all those evenings of Stanley telling Richie to cut the bullshit and see things for how they were. No matter how good or bad things seemed to get, Stanley always kept a level head. 

Richie instinctively dug his phone out of his pocket and scrolled through his contacts until he reached the one he’d been searching for: Stanford Urine. 

A tired chuckle fell from Richie’s mouth as he read the name he’d given Stanley in his phone. He’d remembered it when Mike first gave him Stanley’s cell number the day prior. They didn’t have cell phones or emails when they were kids, but it was the name Richie always use when he passed notes with Stanley in class, much to Stanley’s annoyance. The memory calmed Richie’s nerves a bit, allowing him to relax enough to lie down on the bed and tuck himself underneath the covers. His brief elation, however, was cut short when everything from that evening came crashing down on him all over again. Richie felt his heart throb with pain as Joey’s words played on repeat in his head. 

None of them could donate a part of their liver to Eddie, so now they had to wait until his infection was gone and they could put him on the transplant waiting list. 

_You think he’ll be okay?_ One of the Losers had asked, before another answered with _Yeah, I think he will be._

Richie shook his head, another flare of rage striking him deeply. 

_You couldn’t save him then, and you can’t now,_ The clown teased with an uncomfortable ligthhearted-ness to his voice, _And you’ll watch him die for it._

Cringing at the words as a new sense of fear washed over him, Richie tapped Stanley’s contact information and opened a new direct text message. Stanley was the only one that could truly help him see what was real, and what wasn’t. Without him, Richie didn’t know what he could believe. 

**Trashmouth (Me!):**  
hey

Richie’s thumbs shook as he typed. The heavy silence that filled the room ate him alive as he waited for a response. 

**Stanford Urine:**  
This must be Richie. Only he would send me a “hey” at this hour like he was some pining 13 year-old girl texting her crush.

Richie nearly snorted despite the awful mix of emotions coursing through his body. Fuck, he missed Stanley. 

**Trashmouth (Me!):**  
sure is cutie ;))))))))))))))

**Stanford Urine:**  
Since you can’t see my face, I want you to know how hard I just rolled my eyes. 

Another laugh slipped from Richie’s mouth as he read Stanley’s reply. It’s like they’d picked up right where they left off in high school. Like all the fucked up shit from this week never even happened. He relished the feeling, knowing it would vanish in just mere seconds after reading Stanley’s next message. 

**Stanford Urine:**  
So what’s up? You okay?

**Trashmouth (Me!):**  
yes

**Trashmouth (Me!):**  
well no actually

**Trashmouth (Me!):**  
idk

**Stanford Urine:**  
Did something happen with Eddie? Any change? 

**Trashmouth (Me!):**  
they got our results back 

**Trashmouth (Me!):**  
none of us can be donors

**Stanford Urine:**  
Shit. 

**Stanford Urine:**  
So now what?

**Trashmouth (Me!):**  
gotta wait till his infection is gone

**Trashmouth (Me!):**  
then they can put him on the waiting list for a transplant

**Stanford Urine:**  
_Read at 21:16._

Richie hesitated, waiting to see if the familiar three bubbles would pop up at the bottom of the screen to indicate Stanley was typing. But they never did. 

**Trashmouth (Me!):**  
you should see the rest of them

**Trashmouth (Me!):**  
theyre all so positive hes gonna pull through

**Trashmouth (Me!):**  
but hes not in good shape, stan

**Trashmouth (Me!):**  
hes getting worse by the hour

**Stanford Urine:**  
_Read at 21:20._

**Trashmouth (Me!):**  
this is all so fucked

**Trashmouth (Me!):**  
i dont know what to do or what to think

**Stanford Urine:**  
I’m so sorry, Rich. 

**Trashmouth (Me!):**  
me too, man

**Trashmouth (Me!):**  
stan what do i do

**Stanford Urine:**  
_Read at 21:22._

**Stanford Urine:**  
Be there, I guess. But also prepare yourself for the worst. 

**Stanford Urine:**  
Know the possibilities of what could happen in the end, but don’t you dare let yourself give up on him. 

**Stanford Urine:**  
Fuck, I wish I was there. 

**Trashmouth (Me!):**  
yeah

**Trashmouth (Me!):**  
youll be here soon though, right?

**Stanford Urine:**  
I think they said I could be discharged tomorrow. 

**Trashmouth (Me!):**  
good to hear. so glad youre okay

**Trashmouth (Me!):**  
i really missed you, buddy

**Stanford Urine:**  
_Read at 21:29._

**Stanford Urine:**  
Sorry I was waiting for a punchline or something. 

Richie chuckled under his breath as a few tears welled in his eyes. Stanley made him laugh more in these few short minutes than anyone else had the entire time he’d been here. It was relieving. 

**Trashmouth (Me!):**  
oh shit sorry youre so right hold on

**Trashmouth (Me!):**  
i missed you almost as much as i missed your mom!!!!! :D

**Stanford Urine:**  
Okay nevermind. I regret bringing it up.

**Stanford Urine:**  
Also, I can’t believe your show doesn’t have a single “your mom” joke anywhere in it so far. 

**Stanford Urine:**  
I feel robbed. 

**Trashmouth (Me!):**  
whoa wait back the fuck up

**Trashmouth (Me!):**  
are you 

**Trashmouth (Me!):**  
are you watching one of my fucking netflix specials

**Stanford Urine:**  
Wait, there’s more than one?

**Trashmouth (Me!):**  
fUCK

**Trashmouth (Me!):**  
NO 

**Stanford Urine:**  
Oh yeah I just found them, thanks! 

**Trashmouth (Me!):**  
shit

**Trashmouth (Me!):**  
dammit stanley

**Stanford Urine:**  
What’s wrong with me supporting my friend? :)

**Trashmouth (Me!):**  
ugh

**Trashmouth (Me!):**  
nothing

**Trashmouth (Me!):**  
at least let me go get some ice first before you start burning the shit out of me

**Stanford Urine:**  
You better hurry up. I’ve got a list going now. 

**Trashmouth (Me!):**  
oh god 

**Trashmouth (Me!):**  
you know what? no! i dont need this negativity in my life right now 

**Trashmouth (Me!):**  
im going to bed

**Stanford Urine:**  
Alright, I’ll save my thoughts for later. And Richie?

**Trashmouth (Me!):**  
yeah?

**Stanford Urine:**  
I missed you too. I guess. 

**Trashmouth (Me!):**  
AWWW! <3

**Stanford Urine:**  
Don’t make me regret saying that. 

**Stanford Urine:**  
Goodnight, Rich. 

**Stanford Urine:**  
Get some rest, and let me know if anything changes with Eddie tomorrow.

**Trashmouth (Me!):**  
fine :/

**Trashmouth (Me!):**  
goodnight stanford the manford

Richie released a content sigh, a soft smile on his face as he placed the phone on the nightstand beside him. Damn, he needed that. In one movement, Richie leaned back against his pillow and pulled his covers tightly over himself. A nervous pulse echoed from his heart when he could feel the darker thoughts trying to creep back into his present mind. 

The sound of Stanley’s voice in his head kept them at bay for a while, his words playing again and again in his mind like a broken record. Richie read all of Stanley’s messages in his voice, but it was hard to get his speech just right with only having that short phone call with him as Richie’s only reference. 

_Know the possibilities of what could happen in the end, but don’t you dare let yourself give up on him._

Richie focused intensely on the phrase, desperately trying to embed the notion in his mind. He fought for a long while, until he finally drifted off into a light sleep. But once unconscious and unable to control the thoughts that crossed his mind, a familiar darkness consumed him once more, snuffing out the light Stanley had placed there. 

His dreams crept back like a rising ocean tide, growing ever-closer as it swallowed up the protective outstretch of sand bordering his mind. The sand acted as a buffer, soaking in the good and washing away the bad. But, as the fabric of reality slipped away into the sea as Richie slept, all he could do was face the crashing waves and wait for the inevitable. 

Where the hell was he supposed to run if the person he was fleeing from was himself?

Frigid water enveloped Richie, trapping him beneath the surface and dragging him deeper into its swell. It whispered in his ear, enticing him to sink even lower, to give up, to drift into its welcoming depths and be forever saved. It said it would protect him, save him from the things he was most desperately trying to escape. 

So Richie listened. 

He sank with his back towards the darkness, arms going limp as he let them drift through the water above him. A gnawing instinct to breathe sparked in his chest but he refused to succumb. 

_All of this was your fault. It should’ve been you instead of him._

Richie let his lungs burn. 

_Your life is worthless. YOU are worthless!_

It was a rightful punishment. 

_You don’t deserve to live while Eddie gets one step closer to death by the day._

Beyond the water’s body rested a blackness darker than midnight, and a faint, shimmering light from the moon could be seen where the two worlds collided. Richie no longer felt the sting of the ocean’s caress. He let it engulf him, fall straight into its open arms. 

And then he saw Eddie, immersed in the distant glow of white, staring down at him with sadness in his eyes. Richie’s body sank further into the trench beneath the ocean’s floor, the only remaining light shining down in all directions from Eddie’s form. The urge to fight back pulsed from Richie’s heart, pushing him to swim back towards the surface and pull Eddie into his arms. To carry him to the beach and tell him he was safe. 

But he never moved. 

How could he, after everything he’d done? After what he put Eddie through?

Releasing the breath he’d held so tightly, Richie let his gaze drift into the star-like glow that shone from Eddie’s eyes. 

_Eddie._

He felt the fire that raged in his chest screech in agony as the last of the air left his lungs. With an instinctive gasp for more air, freezing water rushed into Richie’s mouth and seared his throat upon entry. He closed his fists at the minor ache, its sting but the lightest shove compared to the leveling force of reality stretched before him. There was nothing Richie could do to help Eddie, nothing he could give that would be able to save him. Any attempt would be futile, and Richie just couldn’t bring himself to accept that fact until now. That alone brought more suffering than any physical wound he could ever endure. 

Richie was useless. 

Worthless. 

As his world faded to black, Richie kept his eyes locked on Eddie’s. He had no tears left to cry from the water that enveloped him. It smothered his pained face as it tore him down and away from his only light. 

_Eddie._

_I should’ve been faster, then you never would’ve gotten hurt._

_It was all my fault, Eds._

_I deserve this. It should’ve been me from the start...not you._

_If I could’ve taken your place...I would’ve done it without a second thought..._

_I’m so...fucking sorry…_

_...Eddie...my love…_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fear of the Water - SYML
> 
> Some ancient call  
> That I've answered before  
> It lives in my walls  
> And it's under the floor  
> If this was meant for me, why does it hurt so much?  
> And if you're not made for me, why did we fall in love?
> 
> A knock at my door  
> I thought I was alone  
> Unaware of what I thought I needed  
> I drop like a stone  
> If I'm not mistaken, then I was the last to know  
> And if you return for me, I'd never want for more
> 
> You're dislocated  
> Don't be like that  
> And you smile when you dive in  
> Like you're never coming back  
> So hold my body  
> Yeah, hold my breath  
> See your face when I black out  
> I'm never coming back
> 
> Fear of the water  
> Fear of the water
> 
> You're dislocated  
> Don't be like that  
> And you smile when you dive in  
> Like you're never coming back  
> So hold my body  
> Yeah, hold my breath  
> See your face when I black out  
> I'm never coming back
> 
> You're dislocated  
> Don't be like that  
> And you smile when you dive in  
> Like you're never coming back  
> So hold my body  
> Yeah, hold my breath  
> See your face when I black out  
> I'm never coming back
> 
> Fear of the water  
> Fear of the water


	21. Dread in My Heart

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: MINOR MENTION OF SELF-DEPRECATING/SUICIDAL THOUGHTS

Time was relative. 

Another few days passed in quick succession, the events from each all blending together into one messy blur in Richie’s head. He slept when he could, ate when the others slid a plate of food in front of him and wouldn’t let him leave until he took at least a few bites. The group fell into a nice routine, which mostly involved sitting in Eddie’s room or strolling around to other areas of the hospital. 

Richie never accompanied the others on their breaks to stretch their legs, though. He always favored staying by Eddie’s side. When everyone vacated the room, Richie would scoot his chair closer to Eddie’s bed and grasp his hand in both of his own, just like he had after his first nightmare. Bill almost caught him once, which sent Richie into a blind panic for the hour that followed. 

Droplets of dew would collect on the windows, with a dense layer of morning fog resting beyond. Beverly had made a habit of sliding the glass open when they first arrived each day, which allowed the sun’s light to beam inside through the fog-like vapors. It brought an ethereal essence of serenity and calmness that so greatly rivaled the ominous entity devouring Richie’s every thought. The familiar chime of the birds’ songs would keep Richie grounded to reality and help distance himself from his darkest thoughts. He relied on them more than he knew, until the end of the day came and Beverly would seal away their gentle chirps until the following day. 

Joey returned with better news the morning after Richie’s first nightmare. They’d run some tests and they all came back negative for the bacteria that caused his infection, meaning his name could be placed on the UNOS transplant waiting list. 

_I don’t think it’ll take too long to find him a proper match,_ Joey had said right after, that same nervous twitch of her eye very apparent. 

_Why?_

_Because he’s not in great shape, and most dire cases get pushed to the top of the list._

But clearing the infection did nothing to stop Eddie’s liver from failing. Joey told them how there was still extensive damage to the organ, and that its tissue was dying faster than Eddie’s body could replenish it. Richie had to sit down as she spoke, unable to picture the unseen, raging war happening right in front of him. Eddie laid still, unmoving for days, but had been fighting the battle of his life with every passing second. 

And there was nothing Richie could do to help him. 

It was absolute torment, a punishment like no other to watch his friend, the love of his life, slowly dying before him. But whenever the devilish voice entered Richie’s mind to shower him with the same dark thoughts, Richie would remember what Stanley had texted him that one night. 

_Be there, I guess. But also prepare yourself for the worst. Know the possibilities of what could happen in the end, but don’t you dare let yourself give up on him._

Eddie was alive, and was on the transplant list. But even if he matched a donor in time, there was no guarantee he’d survive the surgery. And no guarantee that his body wouldn’t reject the new liver. It pained him to do so, but Richie reminded himself of those facts every time he found himself staring down at Eddie’s face. Doing so worked...except for the times it didn’t. It was those moments that Richie felt most alone, despite the friends that surrounded him and the incoming flow of texts from Stanley. 

_Useless._

It was a strange, desensitizing feeling. Sitting in the same room with so many people yet, whenever Richie closed his eyes, he could have sworn he was alone. 

_Worthless._

The voice invaded Richie’s mind during the mornings, when Eddie’s room was most quiet. It was usually just Richie and Beverly at those hours, with the others having gone out for a walk or to grab some food and bring it back. Beverly spent a majority of her time emailing clients or talking on the phone with her employees to make sure everything was still in order while she was away. Other times, she’d step out into the hallway and video chat with her divorce lawyer. 

Richie tried not to listen, feeling guilty for trying to pick up on what should have been a private conversation. So to distract himself, Richie brought a book with him to read. He’d found it one night in Eddie’s luggage while digging for another one of Eddie’s shirts he could wear. Richie had his own clothes, yes, but almost all of them were dirty and he wasn’t in the mood for doing any laundry. 

It’s not like Eddie needed them right now. 

Richie couldn’t care less about where he picked up or left off between his short reading sessions, typically opening the book to a completely different page every time. Hours would pass before he even made it a few pages in, since so he often forgot what he read and opted to jump back and try again. The writing was dull and had way too many big words. Of course Eddie liked this shit, Richie expected nothing less from someone who’d chosen to pursue a career as a risk analyst. Even so, Richie stuck with the book for as long as he could to distract himself from the world that had slowly began to shatter around him.

There was no escape, the cracks of damage ripping through Richie’s perception as well as his conscious mind. Eddie laid in the adjacent bed, life slowly draining from his body with such haste that he started to look more like an empty shell than a living person. Unable to stand the sight, Richie would retreat to his mind, only to be confronted by the demonic clown whispering into his ears. 

Richie had nowhere left to turn, so he read the damn book. 

It was the night after Richie’s first nightmare that the group finally received the text they’d been so greatly anticipating. The sun had already set, and the group had just returned to their hotel suite. Richie was the first to read it, a smile already growing on his face as the others pulled out their own phones to open the message. Stanley had made a group text with everyone except Eddie, whose phone fell from his pocket at Neibolt and currently sat buried under a few tons of debris. 

**Stanford Urine:**  
Just got discharged, heading home to pack. I’ll need some time to get things in order and then I’ll text you when we’re about to leave for the airport.

**Trashmouth (Me!):**  
stan the man RETURNS!

**Billiam Den-bro:**  
Safe travels, buddy.

 **Bevvie Marsh:**  
love you, stanny xoxo

 **Ben Handsome:**  
See you soon 

**Mike-al Hanlon:**  
We’ll be waiting for you!

 **Stanford Urine:**  
Oh and also, if none of you have watched any of Tozier’s Netflix specials, I highly recommend them if you’re in the mood for a few hours of non-stop second-hand embarrassment.

**Trashmouth (Me!):**  
oh ALRIGHT

**Trashmouth (Me!):**  
FUCK YOU??

**Stanford Urine:**  
Just kidding. I almost laughed a few times.

**Trashmouth (Me!):**  
you know what you can stay in georgia >:(

**Stanford Urine:**  
See you soon, Losers :)

Richie glanced up from his phone with a roll of his eyes, unable to wipe the smile that’d crept onto his face. He was met with four pairs of eyes staring at him expectantly. 

“You have specials on Netflix?” Beverly gasped with an elated expression. She whipped her phone back out and had the app open within seconds, quickly typing in Richie’s name into the search bar. 

Shit. 

“Uh, yeah,” Richie said, scratching the back of his head awkwardly. 

“Why didn’t you tell us?” Ben asked from beside Beverly. 

An amused frown grew on Bill’s face. “You only mentioned you did live shows, not that any of them w-were ever recorded.”

“Found them!” Beverly cheered as she held out her phone for the others to see. Bill and Ben leaned in, smiles growing on their faces as Ben read the titles out loud. 

“That’s why I never told you,” Richie cringed in his seat at the god-awful names his manager Steve came up with. 

_Jeez, Richie. Don’t you know the lines from your own show?_

_...I don’t write my own material._

_I fucking knew it, I FUCKING KNEW IT!_

“Wow,” Beverly breathed in astonishment, “I must’ve scrolled by these a hundred times, never recognizing your name…”

Mike, who’d remained quiet while the others fussed over Beverly’s phone, glanced towards Richie and offered him a kind smile. “Well I don’t know what Stan was talking about, _I_ thought they were funny, Richie.”

Richie stilled. “You...watched them?” 

“Yeah,” Mike nodded, his smile holding as the others glanced up at him as well. “The day they each released.” 

The others stared at Mike with astonished expressions, as if they’d all just remembered that Mike never left Derry like they had. He never forgot about the other Losers like they all had with him. Richie was aware of the fact, but never put any deep thought into it until now. Mike spent over two decades separated from his friends, watching them live their lives without any of them batting an eye in his direction. A one-sided relationship from afar that must have been so lonely. 

A sensation Richie was all-too familiar with. 

Mike caught their expressions, immediately understanding the mix of guilt and despair he saw. “The phone calls from you guys slowly stopped after you moved away from Derry. It wasn’t for another few years that I discovered the truth about It’s power over the town, and how the memories of those who moved away would fade forever. But that didn’t mean I ever stopped checking in on the rest of you when I could.” 

“Why didn’t you ever try to reach out to us?” Ben asked, eyes glassy as a confused expression overcame his face. “I don’t understand-” 

“Don’t you remember what happened at the Jade of the Orient?” Mike asked with saddened smile. “The fear you felt? The trauma from our childhoods that all came back?”

Nobody answered. 

“I didn’t want to bring that upon all of you if I didn’t have to,” Mike continued as the others stared at him with unreadable expressions. “To make you relive all of those memories again? Sure, we made plenty of good ones together, but...I didn’t think it was worth risking the all bad ones. Not until it was time to come back. I’m sorry if-”

Beverly shook her head and raised a hand to stop Mike before had the chance to finish. “You made an impossible choice,” She said, offering the best smile she could. But nothing could hide the pain in her eyes. “Thank you for looking out for us.” 

Mike nodded, a single tear slipping down his face. He quickly wiped it away with a fist as another warm smile appeared on his face. “I always tried my best to, from the moment you all left,” Mike confessed, “I bought and read all of your books, Bill, and watched all the movie adaptations, too. I did the same for you, Richie, whenever you had a new special show up on Netflix. And I know I’m not a very fashionable type, but I did buy a few things from one of your earliest men’s lines, Bev.” 

Surprised laughs echoed through the room. 

“And Ben,” Mike added with a light sigh, “I’m sorry, I couldn’t really go out and buy a whole building you designed, but...I did visit a few that were built not far from Derry.” 

Ben burst into laughter with the others as he reached over to pat Mike on the shoulder. He grinned widely, but it faded as he caught the bittersweet expression in Mike’s eyes. “I’m…” Ben started, giving Mike’s shoulder a firm squeeze, “I’m sorry we couldn’t do the same for you, Mike.” 

“You are now,” Mike replied with a reassuring gaze. 

That same evening, Bill, Beverly, and Mike all left the hospital early to get some dinner. Richie, who was inclined to staying with Eddie until visiting hours ended, pointedly refused. He sat alone for some time while Ben took a quick walk to call his work about extended a few deadlines. Richie almost didn’t hear him leave the room, too caught up with fighting the voice that’d lingered like a ghost at the edges of his mind all day. It’d grown tired of waiting, impatient and needy, and decided to strike with all of its might when Richie was at his most vulnerable. 

When he was alone. 

_You think Mike felt alone? Oh Richie, nobody was ever more alone than you._ The clown whispered harshly, a new sting present in its voice that struck Richie like a shock. _At least Mike remembered his friends...you remembered no one. As far as you knew, you’d spent your entire life alone._

“Shut up,” Richie nearly hissed. 

_No friends, no family,_ The voice chuckled, the hysteria of his tone growing uncomfortable as his volume grew. _Even in Derry, you had no one. Not really..._

“That’s not true, you stupid fuck,” Richie snapped under his breath, hands trembling. “I had my parents, the Losers-”

 _Because you lied to them,_ The voice nearly growled. Richie shrank in his seat at the gutteral sound. 

“What-”

 _You never told them your dirty, little, secret Richie,_ A wild, ferocious cackle sounded in Richie’s head. _Do you really think you still would’ve had them if you’d told them the truth?_

“Ye-” Richie replied without thought, only to cut himself off. His heart pounded wildly in his chest as his nightmare came to life before his eyes, the child Losers all staring down at him with shock and disgust. He could see Eddie, chest punctured and bleeding out onto his shirt, sobbing as he tried to back away from Richie. 

_Don’t fucking touch me!_

_Stay away from me!_

A pleased laugh echoed in Richie’s head, weaving between his thoughts and breaking them down into dust. There was nothing left for him to think, and all he could do was sit helplessly as the clown attacked him from every vulnerable angle. 

_You were alone._

Useless. 

_You’re still alone._

Worthless.

_And once Eddie dies, you will always be alone._

...Pointless. 

Richie started to sob, burying his face into his hands as he tried to lean in closer to Eddie. Holding Eddie’s hand always grounded him, it made the voice weaker until it slowly faded to nothing. But the clown had such a strong hold on Richie that he could barely lift his head to glance at Eddie. Heart lurching in his chest as the sight of Eddie seemed to drift further away, Richie reached out but only grasped air. 

_How do you live with yourself, Richie?_

“I…” Richie choked as a shuddering breath left his mouth, “I don’t know.” 

“Richie?” 

Richie jumped in his seat, sending the chair scooting back over a foot. A loud gasp escaped his mouth as his eyes quickly scanned the room for the source of the voice. His gaze landed upon Ben, who stood in the door’s threshold with a great look of concern on his face. Their eyes met, and that’s when Ben could see the steady flow of tears that trickled down Richie’s cheeks. 

“Whoa, hey, hey,” Ben said with a voice softer than a whisper as he rushed over and pulled up a chair beside Richie. He held his hands firm, outstretched and open in front of him, pausing to see how Richie would react to his touch. When Richie didn’t flinch away, Ben slowly reached up and placed an arm on the man’s back. “What’s wrong? Are you alright?” 

“Do I _look_ alright, Haystack?” Richie snapped, much harsher than he’d meant to. He blinked, taken aback by his own anger, before shrinking back when he caught the flash of hurt on Ben’s face. “Shit,” Richie breathed, letting his face fall into his hands again. “I’m sorry, Ben.”

“S’okay,” Ben sighed, giving Richie a few pats on the back. “Tell me what’s going on.” 

“I…” Richie started, unable to string together the right words. “It’s nothing.” 

“That’s a lie and we both know it, Rich,” Ben said sternly, not in the mood for Richie’s attempts at evasion. “Come on, what’s wrong? You can tell me.” 

Richie glanced back up at the man sitting before him, not bothering to mask the intense look of fear he knew was plastered across his face. His mouth hung open a bit as he stared, contemplating whether to tell Ben the truth about what really set him off. But at this point, after fighting such a long, draining battle, Richie decided to answer and let the pieces fall where they may. 

“It’s…” Richie hesitated, “Listen, you can’t tell the others, okay?” 

Ben’s eyes widened a bit, as if surprised that Richie didn’t immediately turn him down. He nodded absently. 

“I’m fucking serious, Ben,” Richie warned, pointing a finger at him, “You have to promise me you won’t say anything, _especially_ to Bev. They’ll think I’ve actually gone nuts this time…” 

“Yes, I promise,” Ben replied nervously. 

Deep breath. 

Fuck it. 

“There’s this...voice in my head,” Richie admitted, voice tight and hushed as he gestured up to his head with a wave of his hand, “It showed up after Eddie...after he...you know…” 

Ben shot a hard stare at him, remaining quiet for a long time before finally choosing to speak. “...Does it talk to you? Tell you things?”

“Everything,” Richie breathed, eyes falling shut as he worked to block out the frightening chorus of calls that echoed through his head. “He tells me everything.”

“He?” Ben asked. 

“The clown,” Richie uttered, barely able to say the word out loud. “That stupid, motherfucking, asshole clown. I know he’s dead and that it can’t really be him, but...at the same time it _is_ him. And now, when his voice whispers to me, I can’t tell what’s real and what isn’t anymore…” 

The color drained from Ben’s face as he listened, Richie’s heart lurching in his chest as it fleeted. He stilled, every fiber of his body tensing in outright dread, waiting for Ben to lash out and call him crazy, or psychotic, or-

“...What does it say to you?” Ben asked calmly. 

A wave of relief poured through Richie as he shot a thankful look in Ben’s direction. Ben had always been one of the most patient of the group, always open and ready to hear what other people had to say. But hey, facing off with a killer supernatural clown from space will do that to you. It made _anything_ more believable. 

“It, uh…” Richie started. 

_You were too slow._

_it’s your fault he got hurt._

_It should’ve been you instead of him._

_There’s nothing you can do to help him, you’re worthless._

_You can’t save him and now you just have to sit there and watch him die._

_You don’t deserve to live while Eddie gets on step closer to death each day._

_How do you live with yourself, Richie?_

Another deep breath. 

Come on, Tozier. 

Quit being such a pussy. 

“He…” Richie tried again, voice cracking this time.

Dammit. 

“Are the things It says...are they about Eddie?” Ben asked with a sympathetic look on his face after seeing how much Richie struggled to put his thoughts into words. 

Richie nodded. 

“Remember the exercise I had you do the other night?” 

Richie nodded again. 

“Let’s make a longer list, alright?” Ben offered. He slid his chair a bit closer so that he sat facing directly at Richie. “Remember what we started with?” 

“Eddie isn’t dead,” Richie whispered, staring at nothing. 

“That’s right, Rich,” Ben said warmly as he placed a firm hand on Richie’s knee. “What’s next?” 

Over an hour passed before Richie had an entire list of phrases at his disposal, thanks to Ben’s outstanding patience. They struggled on quite a few, Richie convinced that some of the things the clown told him were true. But it was hard for him to argue against Ben when he refused to reveal almost anything the voice whispered to him. All he told Ben was that the voice said Eddie was going to die, nothing more or less than that. 

_He can’t know your secret, Richie._

So Richie sat back as he quietly listened to Ben explain everything that happened leading up to Neibolt again and again. He had to fight to maintain a stoic expression as the clown jumped in with its own commentary in his head, adding observations that Ben never mentioned. All the statements blended together, Richie struggling to differentiate them. Ben noticed this almost immediately and had Richie write down the phrases on a piece of scrap paper and stick it in his pocket. 

Richie didn’t pull it out again until they’d gone back to the hotel for the night. Without a word, he laid in bed and flipped on the lamp, reading the words he and Ben had sloppily written. 

_I killed a man._

_I killed a man in order to save Mike._

_Eddie isn’t dead._

_Eddie saved my life._

_Eddie nearly died saving me._

_But Eddie is alive, he is right here._

_We won because of him._

_We thought Stan was dead._

_But Stan is alive, he is coming soon._

_I forgot both of them when I left Derry._

_It’s not my fault I forgot them._

_None of this was my fault._

_It was the clown’s fault._

_The clown is dead now._

_It can’t come back._

_It won’t come back._

But no matter how much comfort those small scribbles gave him, Richie didn’t know what he’d do if _Eddie_ didn’t come back. 

Richie slept through the night, tossing back and forth under his covers as the same nightmares plagued and raked at his mind like starving predator. The creature stalked his conscious thoughts like a shadow, claws piercing the protective walls Richie built with every step. It mattered not how sturdy and strong they were, for no force had the power to contain such a beast. The next days that followed weren’t any better than the last. Richie slept when he could, ate when the others made him, listened to the birds, read Eddie’s book, recited his phrases with Ben, or just sat and stared at Eddie as he slowly slipped away into an agonizing trance. 

Eddie had gotten even worse. 

The changes in Eddie’s body had grown very visible. He lost weight, his body eating away at the unused fats and muscles of his arms and abdomen. But his skin, fucking hell, his skin was by far the most difficult to look at. Anyone could see the growing yellow undertone all the way from the door as the jaundice overtook his body.

 _It essentially means that his liver isn’t removing all of the wastes from his body properly,_ Joey had tried to explain. _There are actions we can take to slow the process down, but if he goes without a transplant too long, he...the ammonia buildup in his brain, it would…_

_Kill him?_

_...Yes, it could kill him._

Richie grew more paranoid with every passing hour, constantly peeking his head out the door of Eddie’s room in hopes of finding Joey. It wasn’t long before she’d decided to give him her personal number. That way, Richie could text her anytime he wanted to check where Eddie was on the waiting list. He’d moved up a few spots, according to Joey, when his supine heart rate dropped below normal levels. The idea of Eddie’s condition worsening being the only thing to move him up on the waiting list made Richie feel nauseous. 

Richie had been sitting cross-legged on the futon, Beverly resting next to him while she typed away emails on her phone, when the urge to check his own phone suddenly struck. He always kept it in his pocket in case of a text from Joey, Stanley, or the others, but he couldn’t bring himself to check any of his other apps. Desperate to escape the crushing reality before him, Richie unlocked his phone and opened his social media accounts. He simply scrolled for a while, catching up on news and other recent events from the small number of accounts he followed. It wasn’t until he’d found an article about himself did he freeze up. 

The author of the article had tried to speculate the events behind what happened to Richie on-stage just over a week ago, including what might’ve happened before and after the show, as well as where Richie could be now. An anxious shiver crawled down Richie’s body when he scrolled down to read the comments, his expression unreadable. The replies ranged from concern for his well-being, speculations on how many drugs he was on, to his “complete lack of talent.” 

Richie didn’t even notice how Beverly had shifted her weight next to him until after she snatched his phone out of his hands to read the screen. Her expression fell as she read the current comment Richie had pulled up about his alleged “mental instability.” Without glancing back over, Beverly closed the app, locked the phone, and tossed it back at Richie. “Don’t do that to yourself, sweetheart,” Beverly said with a frown, “Don’t worry about what they think right now.” 

Richie exhaled. “Easier said than done.” 

A pause. “I know.” 

As if on cue, the familiar sight of Richie’s manager’s number popped up on his phone screen. 

Shit. 

Richie instinctively reached to hang up, but had hesitated. He’d probably accumulated over twenty missed calls by now. It’d been over a week, and Richie knew that if he didn’t answer soon, his manager would send a search party after him...if there wasn’t one already. 

This was gonna suck. 

“Steve?” Richie answered timidly. Beverly caught his eye, raising her hands into a questioning gesture towards the phone. He mouthed the word “manager” to her from where he sat, tapping a finger on his phone to put it on speaker. 

_“Christ, Richie! I’ve been calling you for almost a week, did you know that? Are you okay?”_

“Uh, yeah,” Richie said, rubbing his temples with his free hand. He shot Beverly a terrified look, shrugging his shoulders and shaking his head as if to say _I have no idea what the fuck I’m doing, please help me._ “I’m okay.” 

_”What happened? Where are you?”_

Beverly opened a blank page on her phone and started to feverishly type something. Richie stared, struggling to read what she was writing while also trying to process the voice coming from the other line. 

“...Remember that phone call I got? Before my last show?” Richie asked nervously, hands shaking a bit as he nudged Beverly for help. 

_”Yeah, yeah I do.”_

“I’m…” Richie started, frantically leaning over just as Beverly held her phone out to him. He barely had time to scan what she said before he read it aloud. “I...had to go home...to where I grew up. I, uh...my friend...one of my old best friends, he, uh...he got in a really bad accident. We...we don’t know if he’s gonna make it.”

 _”Oh, damn. I’m...really sorry to hear that, Richie.”_

“I’m sorry I...didn’t call you back sooner, Steve. It’s just been...really hard and I needed to get my head straight.” 

_”No, no. Don’t apologize. You gave me a real good scare, Richie...but I’m just glad to hear from you.”_

“Listen, man,” Richie continued, his free hand now fidgeting with the sleeve on Beverly’s shirt, “About my dates coming up…” 

_”You wanna push’em back?”_

Beverly held up her phone again and nodded her head vigorously, eyes widening. 

“More like postpone them indefinitely,” Richie sighed, holding his breath. There was a silence on the other end of the line for far too long. 

_”Is there any chance for me to change your mind, Richie?”_

Beverly mouthed a loud “NO!” as she pointed a finger at Richie. 

“No,” Richie replied as a wave of dread struck him. He grabbed Beverly’s hand in his. “I’m sorry.” 

_”This won’t look good for press.”_

“I don’t care,” Richie half-snapped, patience growing thin. He was met with a firm and supportive stare from Beverly, which calmed his nerves a bit. A sigh could be heard through the phone. 

_”Okay. I’ll cancel them.”_

“Okay,” Richie nodded plainly, “I have to go.” 

_”Keep in touch, Richie.”_

Within seconds, Richie’s phone had flown across the room and clattered across the floor. He held his head in his hands, rocking a bit. “Good job, Richie,” Beverly said softly as she leaned over and wrapped her arms around Richie’s hunched form. “I know how hard that must’ve been.” 

Unmoving, Richie reached up and took one of Beverly’s hands back into his own and gave it a tight, grateful squeeze. Beverly couldn’t see it, but a relieved smile broke through Richie’s tense expression. “Couldn’t have done it without you, Bevvie.” 

It was later that evening when Mike recruited Richie to help with some cooking. 

Meals were a special comfort, to have everyone in the same room together enjoying each other’s company. Richie never spoke much during those times, too preoccupied with his own flood of thoughts. Even so, he could see the gradual looks of relief on the other’s face that grew more apparent with every meal as Richie slowly ate more and more food per sitting. 

After some time, however, the Losers had started to feel cramped inside the small hospital room and decided to cook their own meal in their hotel suite. Mike was thrilled with the idea and happily volunteered to go pick up what they needed, telling the others that he had a recipe from his grandmother that he’d been wanting to make, but never had enough people to share it with. Much to Richie’s displease, Mike had him go back to the hotel with him after he’d finished the grocery shopping. The others stayed with Eddie at the hospital so they could be there during the doctors’ rounds and ask any questions they had. Richie refused to leave until he made Bill promise that he’d write down everything the doctors said and update him later when they all came back. 

Luckily, the kitchen in their suite had come equipped with a few basic pots and pans. When used together, they were just large enough to hold the soup Mike planned on making. 

“Why don’t you help chop some of these up,” Mike said kindly as he gently nudged a few vegetables in Richie’s direction. 

Richie wordlessly took up the vegetables and shoved them into a row. He grabbed a small knife that Mike handed him before leaning over the counter and getting down to work. The tomato under his hand crunched as he slid the metal blade through its skin, juice and seeds spilling out onto the cutting board. 

“Have you been holding up alright, Richie?” Mike said with a quick glance at Richie. His hands never stopped moving beneath him as he chopped a large yellow squash. 

“Yeah, I guess,” Richie shivered, a wave of dread coursing through him. He was tired of talking about himself and having everyone fuss over him all the time. If anything, it felt like a burden. Richie quickly tried to dodge another probe and changed the subject. “Have you?” 

“Yeah,” Mike said, mouth in a line as he stared down at the partially-diced vegetable before him, “But Bill’s worried about me, I think.” 

Richie frowned. “What makes you say that?” 

“We’ve had a few talks, when it was just us in Eddie’s room,” Mike admitted without glancing up from his work, “About that moment down in the cavern, when I...and then he…” 

Richie recalled the moment Mike was referencing very well. The ritual hadn’t worked, and they watched helplessly as the clown grew larger and larger, towering over them like they were ants. It drew back its claw, ready to strike Mike where he stood, unmoving and ready to embrace his fate. But then Bill pushed him out of the way and saved his life. 

“I told him that I was the one who put us all in such danger, that I was the reason Eddie got…” Mike trailed off again, well-aware of Richie’s pained expression. The man sighed, placing his knife down and turning to face Richie. “I lied to you all, about what happened the first time the ritual was attempted. But I just want you to understand that it wasn’t on purpose. I genuinely thought that if I got us all together and made you all truly _believe_ we could defeat It...I thought it would end differently for us.” 

Richie opened his mouth to speak, but Mike cut him off. 

“But either way, a lie is a lie. And I wanted to apologize for putting you all in such danger,” Mike continued, his voice somber, “I was just trying to do the right thing. To stay true to the promise we made Bill all those years ago. I’m...so sorry, Richie.” 

A pang of sadness struck Richie right in the chest. Someone as loving and selfless as Mike didn’t deserve to feel such guilt. 

_Only YOU deserve to feel that way,_ The clown sneered with an ominous giggle. 

“I’ve had a lot of memories come back over the last few days from when we were kids,” Richie said, shaking his head as he placed his knife down onto his cutting board. “I remember what happened after that day at Neibolt, when I tried to kick the absolute shit out of Bill’s ass for trying to talk us into fighting It again. We were all so terrified, I remember how scared I was going back in there again to save Bev…” 

_Want to play a game, Richie?_

“...but then we made that oath to Bill…”

_How about Street Fighter? Oh yes, you like that one, don’t you?_

“...and I remember thinking to myself, ‘I never want anyone to see that clown again, and that nobody deserved to feel as hopelessly scared as he made me feel...’”

 _Or how about truth or dare?_

“...so yeah, a lie is a lie, but a promise is also a promise…”

_Oh, you wouldn’t want anyone to pick truth though, would you Richie?_

“...we promised to come back and fight It, and we did, we won…” 

_You wouldn’t want anyone to know what you’re hiding._

“...and now It’s never coming back. That’s because of you, buddy.” 

Mike stared at Richie for a long time. Richie shivered, the memory of that day at the arcade washing through his mind as it slowly consumed every remaining rational thought. He couldn’t even remembered what he’d said. Some bullshit about fear and oaths and defeating the clown for good. 

The words were empty to him. 

_It’s never coming back, Richie?_ The voice teased as an infuriating cackle bounced back and forth against the inner barriers of his mind, _Good thing I never left._

Because for Richie, the fun was just beginning.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dread in My Heart - Mother Mother 
> 
> There’s a god-awful shitty feeling of dread in my heart  
> Yeah, it’s got a lot to do with having to finish what I start  
> And at any second now I think it all might fall apart  
> ‘Cause there’s a god-awful shitty feeling of dread in my heart
> 
> Yeah, ooh  
> Yeah, ooh
> 
> There’s a devil in my brain with a pitchfork and a flame  
> Yeah, he likes to poke around and he likes to tell me things  
> And whenever I begin to feel like I might be deranged  
> I remember there’s a little shitty devil in my brain
> 
> Yeah, ooh  
> Yeah, ooh
> 
> Oh, I wonder what it’s like to be the type who doesn’t burn  
> Yeah, the kind who fights the good fight  
> Not the kind you’ll find fisti-fuckin-cuffin’ in the dirt
> 
> There’s a god-awful shitty feeling of dread in my heart  
> And I can’t seem to change my attitude, but I can change my shirt  
> ‘Cause you know how actually at times that can be a good start  
> But not today, there’s still a god-awful shitty feeling of dread in my heart
> 
> Yeah, in my heart, yeah  
> Oh yeah, ooh  
> Oh no, yeah


	22. Entropy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: MENTION OF SELF-DEPRECATING/SUICIDAL THOUGHTS, REFERENCES TO ATTEMPTED SUICIDE

A loud buzz from the nightstand jerked Richie awake and nearly sent him tumbling to the floor. His heart jumped as he reached for the device, anxious to read the name of the message’s sender. A sigh fell from his lips when it wasn’t Joey’s name on the screen, though he couldn’t tell whether it was from relief or disappointment. 

That meant two things. First, it meant that Eddie hadn’t moved on the donor waiting list, which was always a hard blow to take. Secondly, it meant that Eddie hadn’t gotten any worse. Joey had promised to text Richie right away if either were to happen. The sight of Stanley’s name flashing on the screen, however, calmed the storm that swelled in Richie’s stomach. Richie had to squint his eyes as he turned the brightness down on his phone, only just now spotting that it was only 04:36 in the morning. 

**Stanford Urine:**  
Leaving for airport, flight in 2 hours. See you soon. 

Stanley was on his way. 

He’d be there soon. 

Richie felt a nervous but excited jolt at the thought. He tossed his phone to the side and laid back, hands behind his head as he ignored the buzzes of his phone as the others replied. Stanley’s face materialized in his mind, first as a twelve-year-old, then as a high school graduate. His appearance never changed much over the years, except for the darker tone that showed up in his hair as he grew older. 

_You left me! You made me go into Neibolt!_

_You’re not my friends!_

Richie felt a rush of guilt when he remembered the short, jagged scars that lined both sides of Stanley’s face and how he’d received them. He could still feel the raw fear in Stanley’s voice as he screamed, flailing on the ground as others tried to comfort him. Stanley was the one who’d always told Richie to shut the fuck up, to stop talking, to be quiet for just five short minutes...but in that moment, when Stanley really needed him, Richie couldn’t find any words to say. 

Richie couldn’t stop himself from wondering if those scars were still there, or if they’d faded with age. He had a sinking feeling that he already knew the answer. Unable to fall back asleep, Richie quietly slunk out of his room and shuffled into the kitchen. An hour or two must’ve passed, Richie deducted, when he spotted the faint glow of gold against the closed curtains ahead. He froze when he was met with the sound of a low voice. 

“He thrusts his fists against the p-p-posts…”

Richie moved closer, a sense of familiarity striking him with every word. He knew that phrase.

“He thrusts his fists against the posts and still insis-s-s-s-s…”

Turning the corner, Richie spotted a dark figure sitting on the couch. He remained silent and leaned quietly against the wall with his hands crossed over his chest. Richie hadn’t heard Bill use that expression since they were kids. Bill’s stutter hit its worst points during the summer they first fought the clown, but it’d slowly started to improve over the years. By late high school, the stutter had almost completely vanished. 

But then everyone returned to Derry, and everything from their childhoods came crashing back like harsh waves against a pointed ocean cliff. It re-shaped them back into the people they once were, bring back all of their fears, their habits, their ticks...their feelings. 

“He thrusts his fists against the posts and still insists he sees a g-g-g-g-g-g-”

“Ghost,” Richie said softly.

Bill jumped, startled at the voice that broke the silence of the darkened room. He whipped his head towards Richie, taking in his surroundings for a moment before slumping back against the couch. “Jesus, Rich,” Bill breathed, placing a hand on his chest to calm his heart, “How long w-w-were you standing there?” 

“Not long,” Richie admitted, not wanting to embarrass Bill. He walked over and sat next to his friend on the couch. It was still fairly dark, but the dim light from the closed curtains was enough to make out the features of Bill’s face. “Haven’t heard that one in a while.” 

Bill let out a dry laugh. “Haven’t s-s-s-stuttered in a while.” 

“It’s weird, right?” Richie said with a weak laugh, “We came back to Derry and suddenly _everything_ came back. Not just memories, but...everything.” 

_He can’t know your secret, Richie._

“Yeah,” Bill agreed with an astonished shake of his head. He shot a quizzical glance towards Richie, as if ponder what Richie could’ve meant by it in regards to himself. Richie could see this, and quickly moved to change the subject. 

“I was gonna head over to the hospital early,” Richie said in a lighter tone, “Can’t sleep after Stan woke us all up with that text. Wanna come?” 

Bill stared at him for another few seconds before the thoughtful expression finally faded from his face and was replaced by a more relaxed one. “Sure, Rich. Let me g-grab my stuff.” 

Within five minutes, the pair was in Richie’s car with Bill behind the wheel. It hadn’t taken long for the others to pick up on Richie’s lack of desire to drive, so they started to volunteer to take his place whenever they used Richie’s car. He never told them why, but Richie just didn’t trust himself behind the wheel. At least not when he had friends in the car with him. That voice in his head was far too unpredictable, anything could go wrong at any moment, and it would be on Richie’s hands. 

“Maybe he’ll m-move up on the list today,” Bill said with hopeful tone as he walked beside Richie into the hospital’s main entrance. The sun had broken over the horizon by now, its bright rays shining brightly through the tall glass windows of the lobby. While the room was fairly packed with people, there was a serene sense of quiet that helped calm Richie’s nerves. A weak “maybe” was all Richie could muster. He knew better than to get his hopes up too high, since there was no guarantee they’d find Eddie a match in time. Richie opened his mouth to speak again as he turned the final corner, but was stopped by the terrifying sight of doctors and nurses bolting down the hall and-

They were all heading straight for Eddie’s room. 

“Shit,” Richie cursed, not waiting for Bill to react as he took off in the same direction. A steady flow of panicked voices filled his ears as he approached with haste. Shouts of orders and commands rang down the hall, the voices meshing together into a cloud of wordless noise. Richie’s eyes frantically scanned the unfamiliar faces of the care workers around him, his heart nearly leaping out of his chest at the quick flash of red hair running by. “JOEY!”

A single head turned, whipping towards the sound of Richie’s shout. Joey’s eyes widened as she met his gaze before she shoved her way over. 

“Joey, what the fuck is happening?” Richie asked in a single breath. He heard footsteps approaching behind him, knowing it was probably Bill, but held his stare on Joey so that it never wavered. 

“The ammonia buildup, he had a seizure,” Joey said quickly, constantly glancing back to check on Eddie. Richie followed her gaze only to be struck with a horror he’d never experienced before. It looked like the doctors and nurses were working to get Eddie prepped for transport...they were moving him. 

“Where are they taking him?” Richie asked, fear seizing his heart in a tightened fist. 

A new spark appeared in Joey’s eyes, one Richie hadn’t seen before. It wasn’t until her lips curved upward did Richie realize it was relief. “We have a donor,” She said, every word seemingly slower than the last. 

A donor. 

An actual donor. 

Fuck, this didn’t feel real. It couldn’t be, could it?

“Really?” Richie gasped, his breath catching in his throat as his eyes started to water. He didn’t realize he was smiling until a choked laugh slipped from his mouth, sounding more like a sob. 

“Yes,” Joey’s smile widened as she nodded. “I was just about to call you. The donor organ will be here soon, we have to go prep him for surgery now. I’ll come find you as _soon_ as it’s done, alright?”

“Okay,” Richie nodded quickly as he laughed with shock again, his breaths coming in sharp and uneven gasps. “Okay.” 

With one last reassuring smile, Joey turned and joined the others as they wheeled Eddie’s bed through the doorway. Richie swore his head was about to explode, feeling completely overwhelmed by the rush of emotions coursing through his entire being. My god, did Eddie look way fucking worse than yesterday. But they found him a donor, and the liver was on its way here. Eddie would be in surgery within the hour, with a new liver to clear his body of all the toxins the old one left behind. 

As the shape of the crowd surrounding Eddie’s moving bed disappeared around the far corner of the hallway, Richie slowly turned to look at Bill. His vision of his friend’s face blurred as tears welled in his eyes. They spilled down Richie’s face, the tears feeling hot on his skin, as he stared intensely at Bill. 

The pair’s shocked faces broke simultaneously. 

Richie practically threw himself at Bill, latching his arms tightly around the man’s shoulders. Broken sobs of relief could be heard between the thrilled, astonished sounds of laughter that fell from their mouths. They held each other close, so close Richie thought he could feel Bill’s heartbeat against his own chest. Time slowed, the noise surrounding Richie fading away into nothing. It was like he slipped into another world, an ethereal sense of tranquility falling into place around them. The silence cleansed the pain that stirred in his core like ocean waves washing away footprints in the sand. 

Eddie was getting his transplant. 

He had a chance. 

Richie wasn’t sure long they stood there, supporting each other’s weight as they started to sway from the haze of shock that clouded their minds. It was Richie who finally pulled back, hands still locked firmly to either of Bill’s shoulders. “They found a donor,” Richie breathed, saying the words out loud. They felt so real when he did, and wow, did he _need_ that affirmation.

This moment felt like a dream. 

“Yeah,” Bill beamed, another tear falling from the corner of his eye, “They did.” 

With a shaking hand, Richie quickly slid his phone out of his back pocket and scrolled through his contacts. He slammed the call button next to the name he’d been searching for before holding the device up to his ear. Richie nearly lost his mind with every ring of the phone, about to drive over to the hotel himself and drag them all out of bed. 

_”Richie? Do you know what time it is?”_ Beverly’s slurred voice asked through the line. 

“Get the others up and get the _fuck_ over here. And I mean haul _major_ ass, Bevvie. They found Eddie a donor.”

The trio arrived at the hospital in record time, Ben and Mike still half-asleep as they shoved the bagels Beverly snatched from the counter into their mouths. Morning sunbeams blasted into the room in bright streaks. The natural light struck their faces, its intensity doing wonders to pull them from their sleepy states. Beverly, who’d driven the group, spotted Richie and Bill in the expansive waiting room almost immediately. 

“Any news?” Beverly panted as she nearly fell into the open seat next to Richie. Bill sat on the other side of him, leaning forward so that his elbows rested on his knees. 

“A nurse flagged us down right b-before you got here,” Bill answered quickly, eyes darting between Beverly’s and the others as they approached from behind her. “He’s in the OR, and the donor organ is here. They’re p-p-probably starting right about now.” 

Beverly laughed with joy, a new light in her face that Richie hadn’t seen in days. The sight of it provided him a newfound rush of relief. Her gaze shifted from one Loser to the next until her eyes finally fell upon Richie beside her. The smile faded from her face for a moment, quickly replaced with a look of determined reassurance. 

“He’s gonna be okay,” Beverly whispered, wrapping her arms around Richie’s broad shoulders. 

Richie hugged her back, placing a gentle but firm hand on the back of her head to pull her even closer. He exhaled slowly, Beverly’s words playing on repeat at the forefront of his mind. Christ, did he want to believe what she said. To genuinely believe that Eddie would make it out of this alright. 

But, even now, he knew better than to get his hopes up.

After such a dark and agonizing week, today’s gift felt like a true blessing, a light that would guide them out of the shrouded woods they’d been blindly trekking through. It was so bright, however, that it seemed too good to possibly be true. For all of Richie’s life, he thought he’d be getting close to the end of the tunnel, only to be yanked back by an invisible rope tied around his waist. And then he’d be forced to start his trek back to the exit all over again. Now, in this moment, he’d never been so close. Not only could he see the light in front of him, he could bask in it. Feel its warmth on his skin. Watch the way it struck his body and made it glow. 

It was the most terrifying thing Richie had ever experienced. 

Hours passed without issue, the light in Richie’s mind doing well to block out the dark entities that lurked in the shadows of his subconscious thoughts. It was a relief to be freed from the burden of the clown’s whispers, even if only for a few hours. Without its presence to distract him, Richie could finally focus on Eddie in peace. 

A nurse was sent out nearly every hour with new updates on how the surgery was going. So far, they’d opened Eddie up, maneuvered around to the most damaged areas, and they were currently working on removing the “necrotic” tissue. Richie had to google the term on his phone, his heart jumping when he learned it meant “dead.” It took every ounce of energy to maintain a level head, with so much information being thrown at him at once. But even under such immense pressure, Richie pulled out his phone and stared at the texts Stanley had sent him just a few days ago. Damn, did it feel like an eternity had passed since then. 

_Be there, I guess. But also prepare yourself for the worst. Know the possibilities of what could happen in the end, but don’t you dare let yourself give up on him._

Keeping those words in mind, Richie preoccupied himself with picturing the scenarios of every possible outcome in his mind. He didn’t make it far with the...darker ones, but envisioning Eddie waking up filled Richie with an elation that swelled strongly within him. Richie pictured Eddie finally opening his eyes, his gaze meeting Richie’s, smiles on both of their faces. 

A memory suddenly flashed in Richie’s mind, pulling him away from the moment. He could remember that one time in high school when Eddie showed up in his bedroom after school let out for the day, wearing gloves that were at least three sizes too large and a surgical mask. 

_”What’re you doing, Eds?” Richie asked from his bed, his mind and vision both in a haze from whatever illness he’d managed to pick up. The room spun, and it took all of his concentration to focus on Eddie’s face. “M’sick…you hate-”_

_“Don’t remind me, asshole. And stop calling me Eds.” Eddie replied as he strode to the side of Richie’s bed and offered him a cold glass of water. “I can’t believe I’m doing this…”_

_Richie eyed him with a quizzical expression as Eddie fawned over him by shoving medicine in his mouth, taking his temperature, and making him drink some weird concoction he’d made in his kitchen downstairs. “Hey Eds?”_

_“Yeah?” Eddie asked with a roll of his eyes at the nickname. He didn’t stop counting out a handful of pills for Richie to take, though._

_“Why ARE you doing this?” Richie brought himself to ask, heart pounding in his chest as he did. “Aren’t you worried about getting sick?”_

_“I...it’s...it’s nothing,” Eddie answered plainly, suddenly angling his face away so Richie could no longer see it. “You’re my best friend.”_

_Richie remembered the way his heart soared when Eddie turned back to face him with a kind smile on his face. He couldn’t see it from under Eddie’s mask, of course, but he could see it in his eyes. Richie returned the best grin he could muster despite his drowsiness. “Thanks, Spaghetti Man.”_

It was a desire Richie held closer than any other. Just to peer into Eddie’s eyes, to sit by his side for hours on end while knowing that he’d be alright. He wanted to help Eddie recover and nurse him back to be as healthy as he could be. 

_Keep holding on, Eds._

It would finally give Richie a purpose, and a means to make up for the damage he’d done to Eddie. It was his fault Eddie was here, after all. The voice in his head made sure to never let him forget that part. 

_Please stay with me._

And now, finally, Richie could have the chance to take care of Eddie the same way he had always taken care of him. All Eddie had to do was make it through the transplant in one piece. 

_Eddie, my love._

With every passing hour spent in the waiting room, the updates from nurses slowly became more sparse. At first, they came every hour. Then it stretched to an hour and a half, then two hours...and now, the group had been waiting for a new update for almost three hours. 

Something was wrong, it had to be. 

The updates had grown more vague over time as well, most of them no longer than a minute. According to the nurses, they’d finished removing the dead tissue of Eddie’s old liver, received the new one and, as of the most recent update, the doctors were currently working on transplanting the new liver into Eddie. 

But it was taking too long. 

Nearly twelve more hours had passed, and even the Losers, who had little to no medical knowledge, knew that was bordering the edge of normal. The nurses told them that some transplants take much longer than others, but after a quick session on Google, Richie knew they should be almost done by now. And from his understanding, they still had a decent ways to go. 

Updates from the nurses had become Richie’s lifeline, and as their frequency dropped and their potency weakened, Richie felt the sparked light inside of him fade. He tried so hard to keep it alight, thinking hard on the memories he’d recovered of Eddie taking care of him when he was sick. He pictured the image of Eddie waking up, regaining his strength, and slowly recovering from the trauma his body had suffered. 

Richie’s attempts worked for some time, but their effects rapidly dwindled with every passing minute. He cringed when the voice crept its way back into his consciousness, feeding so greedily on his growing fears and doubts. Richie’s body nearly writhed at the laughs of pure delight that suddenly echoed through his head. Before the voice could regain its strength, Richie desperately tried to wash out its words with the phrases he and Ben came up with. 

_It was the clown’s fault._

_The clown is dead now._

_It can’t come back._

_It won’t come back._

At first, Richie thought it was working, so he continued to repeat the phrases to himself again and again. 

_It can’t come back._

_It can’t come back._

_It can’t come back._

_It can’t come back._

It wasn’t until that painfully-familiar cackle clawed its way into his mind with its sharpened and ragged claws did Richie realize he’d only been nourishing it. The sound left searing marks in its tread, nearly knocking the air out of Richie’s lungs at the shock. He leaned forward, arms wrapped around his abdomen and eyes squeezed shut. It didn’t matter how many times Richie repeated those phrases if he couldn’t even bring himself to truly believe them. An unsettling chill raked its way up Richie’s spine as a wave of nausea struck his stomach with the force of a punch. He felt afraid, more afraid than he had down in the sewers below Neibolt. This was a new, unwelcoming sensation that made Richie want to bolt out of his seat and _run_. 

Oh, god. 

It’d grown furious in it’s time trapped in the shadows. 

Richie could almost _taste_ its fierce desire for revenge, to make him suffer in ways he never had before. 

_Did you really think you could block me out forever?_ The voice uttered with a newfound anger in its tone. 

_Yes,_ Richie thought to himself as he pulled his fingers into trembling fists. He stilled in his chair, unmoving despite the rage that started to boil inside of him. 

_Then you are sorely mistaken. You and I both know there’s only one way to get rid of me for good,_ The clown practically hissed, its tone growing low and heavy.

Richie swallowed. 

Oh fuck, please no. 

He knew exactly what the clown was referring to. 

_It wouldn’t be the first time you’ve thought of taking that path, is it Richie?_ The voice prodded, searching Richie’s mind for its weakest, most vulnerable points before striking with a bigger blow. _Don’t you remember those dark, dark nights, all alone in your bedroom? How you’d stare at that full bottle of pills on your dresser for hours and hours and hours and hours? How you turned it in your hands, ready to take them all in one go?_

Richie clenched his teeth at the memory he’d repressed, refusing to let the clown bring it back into the light. His entire body tensed, an intense rush of heat flowing to his face and chest. To stride atop a blazing flame would feel like a release compared to this torture. 

_If you really want me gone, I’m sure there’s a bottle of pills around here that nobody would miss,_ The voice sneered between its ominous chuckles. 

_Stop it,_ Richie spat inside his head as he felt his heart rate skyrocket. _I didn’t do it then, I’m not doing it now. They need me._

 _Your beloved Eddie should’ve been out of surgery hours ago. He needs you, yet there’s nothing you can do to save him,_ The clown snapped in an amused tone that riled Richie far too near the point of no return. _And when Eddie dies, the others will leave you here to rot along with him, back to the weeds._

 _That’s not true,_ Richie fought back, his own voice in his mind sounding so weak and broken compared to the clown’s. 

_You were always alone and you always will be, Richie._ The entity countered with a sinister tone. _Can you live with that?_

Richie’s throat and eyes burned as he struggled to maintain some form of composure. His body, which had grown increasingly tense throughout the invisible ordeal, made him feel as though he was paralyzed. He hated the feeling it gave him, after seeing those memories resurface. It was something he never hoped to remember, something he hoped he would never sink low enough to ever encounter again. 

It took Richie a while to notice the hand shaking his shoulder. He jerked back at the sensation, his arms folding into himself as he slowly lifted his aching head. Richie expected to see Beverly, ready to comfort him, eyes flooded with grief and concern. But as Richie’s vision focused, he could see that the figure kneeling before him belonged to a man he’d never seen before, yet also knew upon glancing into those familiar dark eyes. 

Stanley. 

The tears that stung at Richie’s eyes now fell without restraint. He struggled to see Stanley’s face through blurred vision as he tried to take in every single feature. Stanley looked just like he had as a kid, with his darker-colored hair styled in almost exactly the same way. His eyes were still so round and held that same stoic expression, with either side of his face lined by jagged streaks left behind by the clown. 

While he certainly changed in one way or another, this person was, without a single doubt, the same Stanley Uris that Richie grew up with. 

One of his best friends in the entire goddamn world. 

“Richie,” Stanley whispered, eyes in awe as a small smile grew on his face. He outstretched two heavily-bandaged arms just in time to catch Richie as he threw himself forward out of his chair.

“Stan,” Richie sobbed onto Stanley as he ran his hands over the man’s back, his shoulders, his head. “Oh my god, Stan…”

Stanley laughed against Richie’s shoulder. He was crying, too. “Hey, buddy.” 

This was real, he was really here. 

Richie felt the cloth of Stanley’s bandages drag across his shirt and bare neck, the sensation reminding Richie why they had to be there in the first place. 

_It wouldn’t be the first time you’ve thought of taking that path, is it?_

Clutching Stanley even tighter, Richie buried his face into the man’s neck and let out another choked sob. 

_How do you live with yourself, Richie?_

If anyone would understand what he was going through, it was Stanley. And now he was finally here with the rest of the Losers, the group fully reunited for the first time in nearly three decades. Stanley pulled back, placing a steadying hand on either of Richie’s shoulders. A few stray tears ran down his cheeks, surely nothing compared to how much of a mess Richie’s face must’ve been. “Jeez, Tozier,” Stanley said as he reached up and snatched Richie’s glasses to rid them of their many tear streaks with his shirt. He placed them back before giving Richie a gentle pat on the side of his head. “You look like shit.” 

The comment sent a wave of relief through Richie, almost immediately calming his nerves. A loose laugh broke through his cries as a smile gradually appeared on Richie’s red and tear-streaked face. “Feel like it, too.” 

The others around them chuckled, almost startling Richie. He’d forgotten they were there. Stanley met Richie’s gaze once more as the smile slowly fell from his face to be replaced by a more serious expression. “It’s good to see you, Rich,” He said, voice genuine. 

“You too, Stan the Man,” Richie nodded, his own expression taking the form of both relief and anguish. He reached up and ruffled Stanley’s hair, which elicited an eye-roll that sent Richie into another fit of laughter. 

Fuck, he'd really missed Stanley. 

It took two minutes to get Stanley and Richie off the floor and into some chairs, and another ten minutes to update Stanley on Eddie’s surgery. Hearing the words in person alleviated Stanley’s distressed expression. They’d texted him on the plane, but being here with everyone else was an entirely surreal experience. 

“Stan?” An approaching voice called. “Oh, there you are. Parking was a nightmare-”

Stanley was quick to shoot up from his chair and stride towards the source of the voice. He stopped in front of a woman with flowing blonde hair that bounced on her shoulders as she walked. Sliding an arm around the woman’s back, Stanley guided her to the rest of the Losers, who all were waiting anxiously. “Most of you have already spoken to her over the phone, I believe,” Stanley started, shrugging his shoulders, “But this is my wife Patty.” 

Beverly was first to her feet. She bounded over with a large smile plastered on her face, arms outstretched as she pulled Patty into a tight embrace. “Thank you for coming,” She uttered in Patty’s ear, “It’s so great to finally meet you. I’m-” 

“Beverly,” Patty grinned, her eyes shifted to the other members of the group that sat behind Beverly. Patty lifted a finger and pointed to each Loser in succession, putting the correct name to each of their faces. When finished, she turned back to Stanley with a questioning look, only to beam when Stanley threw her a proud nod of approval. 

“Wow,” Mike smiled as he stood to shake Patty’s hand, “I’m impressed.” 

“Me too!” Patty giggled as she accepted Mike’s hand. She nodded her head towards Stanley as she spoke, “I wanted to learn your names before we got here, and he could only dig up a few pictures of you all from when you were kids, so I didn’t have much to work with.” 

The group laughed as Richie shifted his weight between his feet in the back. His head was still reeling from seeing Stanley in person and being able to truly believe that he was here and still alive. He jumped when Patty caught his eye and offered him a bittersweet smile. The shine in her eyes made him wonder how much Stanley had told her about all of them. A few minutes passed and the group quieted down. It was Bill who first sensed the shift in mood, his stare darkening a bit when he turned to face Stanley. “You’re probably w-wondering...about everything that happened after we came back to Derry.” 

Stanley’s face paled a bit, but he gave a firm nod. Richie could see the conflict in his eyes, with a mix of hesitant curiosity and an absolute fear of what he might hear. 

“Maybe we should take this upstairs,” Ben said with an awkward shrug as he shifted his gaze to all the people sitting around them. “We can talk in Eddie’s room.” 

After stopping at one of the reception desks and requesting any future updates on Eddie’s surgery be made to his patient room, everyone stalked out of the cramped waiting room. The group was silent as Ben led the way down a complex path of twists and turns through the hospital’s long hallways. A strange looming feeling swirled in Richie’s stomach, his body tensing as they approached the door that led to Eddie’s room. It brought a new type of pain seeing it so empty, the space where Eddie’s bed should be completely unoccupied. Richie tried to shake it off, but was unsuccessful in blocking out the ominous chuckles inside his head. 

_Do you feel it yet?_

Richie felt everything and nothing all at once, the uncomfortable sensation of it threatening to drive him mad. 

_The same loneliness you’d felt all your life?_

_No, I don’t,_ Richie lied to himself. 

The entity bellowed a crazed and hysterical laugh at the comment, its sound more haunting that most of Richie’s nightmares. It sent a chill fleeting down his spine, paralyzing him where he sat in the chair closest to where Eddie’s bed should’ve been. 

“So,” Bill started, head hanging low for a moment as he pieced together all of the events in his mind. He shot a worried glance towards Patty, who sat silently next to Stanley on the futon. “How, um….”

Stanley caught on in seconds, his mouth curving up into a small smile as he replied. “I told her everything...from that summer.” 

“ _Everything_?” Bill asked as his eyebrows shot up in blatant surprise. His gaze fell back upon Patty, who met his eyes with a firm stare. 

“Yeah, everything,” She nodded, droning on, “...missing kids...sewers...a killer clown?” Patty paused, her eyes shifting from one Loser to the next. “It’ll be nice to hear it from all of you, so I can finally convince myself that my husband _hasn’t_ lost his mind.” 

Stanley rolled his eyes and playfully nudged Patty, who shot a smirk right back at him. 

“Alright then,” Bill said with a genuinely surprised yet pleased tone, probably thankful he didn’t have to censor parts of the story to avoid letting Patty know to much. “So we all m-m-met for dinner that first night…”

Bill summarized a majority of their first night in Derry, and what all happened at both the dinner and at the Townhouse. Then Ben took over and spoke of their visit to their old Clubhouse, making sure to include the part where they all found Stanley’s old shower caps. Richie found himself smiling at the memory. 

_The fuck is this?_

_So you don’t get spiders stuck in your hair when you’re down here._

_Stanley, we’re not afraid of fucking spiders._

Richie felt a new wave of panic overcome him when the group started talking about their individual trips to retrieve their tokens. Some of the Losers went into far more detail about their encounter with Pennywise than others, and when everyone’s eyes finally landed on Richie, he felt his heart lurch all the way up into his throat. He managed to muster a quick “Eddie got his inhaler from the pharmacy and I got a token from the old arcade” and left it at that. Luckily, nobody pushed him to elaborate. 

Mike went on to explain how they met up at the library, and how Richie saved his life by putting an axe through Bowers’ head. 

“Wait, hold on, back up,” Stanley said as he leaned forward and gestured with his hand in a blade for emphasis. The movement reminded Richie of the one Eddie would sometimes make when he was angry. With a quick glance towards the doorway to make sure nobody was around, Stanley’s head shot back towards Richie with an exasperated look. He spoke in a hushed but panicked voice, “You _killed_ Bowers?!” 

“He was gonna kill _Mike_!” Richie shrugged nonchalantly, trying to play off the fact that he _murdered_ an actual human being as if it hadn’t phased him at all. Ben shot in a concerned look, knowing how much the memory truly disturbed Richie, but Richie shook his head calmly. His eyes fluttered shut for a moment as the images of that night came flooding back. Richie could still feel the traction of the axe as it struck Bowers’ head and fractured his skull so deeply that he couldn’t pull the axe back out. He shivered, squirming a bit in his seat as Bill took over to explain what happened to him at the carnival. Beverly was the last to speak. She explained what happened after they all met at Neibolt, how the clown attacked Ben with a knife and how It took the form of Stanley’s younger self and attacked the others in the form of a spider. 

Stanley’s face paled as Beverly described the being.

Another pang of dread struck Richie with such intensity that he fell backwards in his seat a bit. Beverly had gotten to the ritual, and described how it didn’t work even though they’d done everything correctly. Her voice wavered a bit as she spoke of how the clown split them all up and attacked them individually. Richie shot up from his seat and strode over to the corner of the room closest to the door. He turned with his back towards the others, his hand reaching up to rub at his eyes underneath his glasses. 

Richie knew what part came next. 

_Eddie’s still alive, but for how long?_ The voice sneered, teasing Richie with the same thoughts that haunted his mind since arriving at the hospital all those days ago. 

The lenses on his glasses were still cracked. 

_If only you’d been a bit faster, then perhaps Eddie wouldn’t even be in this mess at all._

Until replaced, the glasses served as a permanent reminder of how he failed. 

_You’re the one who got caught in my Deadlights, Richie._

Richie felt his body tense when Beverly paused, anticipating the unwanted touch of someone’s hand on his shoulder or back. But luckily, nobody came and Beverly picked up where she left off. She kept her descriptions short and vague, just clear enough for Stanley and Patty to follow as they stared back with grave but aware expressions. They knew what was coming next, too. 

_If you weren’t so slow, your dear Eddie Spaghetti wouldn’t have needed to sacrifice himself to save you!_

Beverly got to the part where Richie got trapped in the clown’s Deadlights, the tone of her voice growing darker with every word. 

_Maybe you’re right,_ Richie had said to the endless void that’d invaded his mind. 

The next words that left her mouth tore through Richie’s chest like a dozen daggers, piercing every inch of his core with a raging fire of pain. 

“Eddie hit the clown with a metal post and saved Richie, but then he...the clown, it...it got Eddie…” 

_That’s right, Richie, it was all your fault._

A heavy silence filled the room for a long time before Beverly finally worked up the strength to speak again. She plainly described how Richie tended to Eddie’s wounds as best as he could while they fought the clown and made him small enough to kill. She told them of how they held It’s beating heart in their hands and crushed it into nothing but dust. She spoke of how they managed to get Eddie out of the cavern and sewers, and to the hospital they were at now. 

_It should’ve been you, Richie. Not him._

And with that, their story was complete. 

Richie had remained where he stood, his back facing towards the others, until he could hear the muffled sound of Stanley shifting on the futon. Glancing over his shoulder, Richie spotted Stanley with his head forward as he slowly ran his hands through his hair. His hands stopped on the back of his head, pausing to allow the man time to process everything he’d just been told. 

In his defense, it was a lot to take in all at once. 

“I’m...” Stanley exhaled slowly. There was a weakness in his voice that Richie had never heard before, and it moved him to turn fully around and step closer to his friend. Stanley paused, taking a moment to look every Loser in the eye before speaking again. “I’m...so sorry.” 

“For what?” Mike asked with a frown. He crossed his arms and leaned his head in a bit towards Stanley’s direction. 

Stanley’s mouth fell ajar when he couldn’t conjure the words to form a proper reply. Instead, he rotated his arms that rested atop his thighs so that his palms faced upwards. Richie felt his stomach drop when Stanley’s eyes landed on the thick bandages that concealed the fresh wounds underneath. Patty, who’d remained silent, reached up and wrapped a steadying arm around Stanley’s back as she leaned in to kiss his shoulder. 

“S-stan, dont-” Bill started as he raised a hand in warning, only to be cut off by Stanley. 

“I just...I hope you’ll understand why I did it,” Stanley said as he stared at nothing, his face appearing as though he’d been caught in a trance. Eyes glazing over, he continued, “And that none of you are angry with me.” 

“Stanny,” Beverly stifled a cry with her hand, quickly shaking her head a few times to compose herself. “None of us are mad, honey.” 

“We’re just so happy you’re okay,” Ben added with a solemn smile. 

Stanley met their gaze, eyes narrowing a bit. There was something he’d been pondering intensely, Richie could see the thoughts flying passed his eyes faster than light. Almost a minute passed before Stanley shot a hesitant glance towards Patty, who offered him a supportive nod. 

“I, uh...thank you,” Stanley struggled to say as he turned to Patty once more. She reached into her bag and pulled out a sealed envelope with a single name scrawled onto the front of it with ink. Richie was too far away to see who it was addressed to. Stanley held the envelope in his hands like it was the most delicate thing he’d ever touched. He ran his thumbs along the front, sucking in a deep breath before releasing it slowly. “I think you all should rea-”

A sudden noise outside the doorway cut Stanley off, pulling everyone’s gaze in its direction. 

Heart pounding in his chest at the familiar sound of the wheels of a patient bed, Richie, who’d been standing closest to the door, practically leapt into the hallway. His shoes slid on along the tile and almost sent him toppling to the floor. And there, approaching him from down the hall, was Joey. She was accompanied by a handful of caregivers pushing a bed that held Eddie. 

_Eddie._

Joey caught Richie’s gaze and shot him a wide grin, a new light beaming from her face despite her evident fatigue from the surgery that’d lasted over sixteen hours.

_Oh, Eddie..._

Richie’s knees gave out at the sight. He plummeted to the floor, his knees colliding harshly with the ceramic tile. Nothing but a slight sensation of pressure shot up his legs, however. Richie could feel no pain, not with this sight in front of him. Nothing else mattered right now.

_Eddie, my love..._

Nothing else mattered because Eddie was _alive_. 

It was in that moment that Richie realized he’d spent so much time dwelling on the worst possible outcome, that he never pictured himself in this moment. Eddie before him, alive and with a new liver, being wheeled into his room for recovery with Richie right at his side. 

_I never got to tell you, Eds…_

Richie had never felt elation like this. Something so joyous and freeing, something so powerful that it swept away everything else in his thoughts and in the world surrounding him. It left nothing but pure awe in its wake, leaving Richie in a stunned state. It felt like the embrace of a light warmer and more serene than the sun’s. His vision became that of a blurred dream only found when toeing the line between wakefulness and sleep. 

But this wasn’t a dream. 

It was real. 

_But now I might have another chance._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Entropy - Walk the Moon 
> 
> You were lost and I came to find you  
> I got lost too, you will find a way  
> In the dark, there's a light you'll see  
> And it's the entropy, lead you back to me
> 
> Cause even when we're lost, we are together  
> Even though we're lost we are the same  
> And even if we're lost, we'll be together  
> And you will call my name
> 
> And if one day they took my sight away  
> And I couldn't see anything, would you have me anyway?  
> Cause after a thousand days across an endless space  
> In a crowded place I would know you're face
> 
> Cause even when we're lost, we are together  
> And even though we're lost we are the same  
> And even if we're lost, we'll be together  
> And you will call my name
> 
> Whatever hurting I hold  
> What troubles I carry  
> There'll be no space between us  
> And into the dark or into the light  
> There'll be no space between us
> 
> And at the table of my enemy  
> I want you next to me so everyone will see  
> And did you know the day you called my name  
> That we were the same, did you even know?  
> Did you?
> 
> Cause even when we're lost, we are together  
> And even though we're lost we are the same  
> And even if we're lost, we'll be together  
> And you will call my name  
> You will call my name  
> You will call my name  
> You will call my name


	23. Low Roar

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: MINOR MENTION OF SELF-DEPRECATING/SUICIDAL THOUGHTS/ATTEMPTED SUICIDE, INTERNALIZED HOMOPHOBIA, HOMOPHOBIC SLURS (MULTIPLE)

_Ignorance was bliss._

Richie had off-handedly used the phrase more times than he could count, never putting much thought to the meaning behind the words. It was often simply a light-hearted retort whenever he’d heard something he wished he hadn’t. But now, times have changed, and the short phrase was suddenly a fleeting memory Richie fought so desperately to regain. It should have terrified him, the utter strength of his desire to flee this impaired reality and return to that blissful moment in the hall. 

Maybe it did, a bit.

Or perhaps that sinking feeling in his stomach was merely an act of charity from the entity in his head, a wordless reminder to never get his hopes up when Eddie’s fate was still so uncertain. 

_The transplant was successful,_ Joey had remarked as she dutifully eyed the many beeping monitors surrounding Eddie’s bed. That same nervous twitch returned to her face as she spoke. _We’ll need to run more tests over the next few days, but it seems like his body is accepting the new organ._

 _What else?_ Richie asked plainly, his elation dissipating in seconds as Joey’s face lost some of its color.

Joey swallowed. _The ammonia concentrations in his brain reached dangerously high levels. We don’t know the extent of the tissue damage yet._

_So what are you saying?_

_We don’t know when he’ll wake up. It could be some time._

_But can you promise me that he WILL wake up?_

_I’m sorry...I can’t._

Ignorance was bliss. 

Richie sat in his cushioned chair, knees brushing against the edge of Eddie’s bed. He dared not touch him, frightened that if he so much as poked Eddie with a single finger, the man would disintegrate on the spot. The surgery had taken a great toll on his body. It made him appear even weaker than he already was, as if he’d somehow lost even more weight. 

But he was still alive. 

_But for how long, Richie?_ The voice waded back into Richie’s mind like a slow-flowing river, growing louder and clearer as it approached from upstream. _It’s only a matter of time now…_

Eddie was alive and he’d wake up soon. 

He had to. 

_He’s not coming back from this,_ The clown warned, clicking its tongue in disapproval. _Eddie will die, and you will be alone again. Forever, this time._

Dead. 

_Do you feel it yet, Richie?_

The clown was dead and Eddie was alive. 

_The same loneliness you’d felt all your life?_

That stupid motherfucking clown was nothing but dust and Eddie’s heart was still beating in his goddamn chest. 

_It’s been waiting for you, for so, so, long,_ The clown cooed, as if speaking to a small, innocent child. Richie shivered in his seat as its voice grew ten-fold in volume and morphed into a hysterical cackle. _It dreams of you, Richie. It craves you. Oh, it’s MISSED you!_

Richie let his head fall into his hands and leaned forward to support his weight with his elbows. Other that then slow and steady beeps from the monitors above him, the room held a heavy silence. Nobody could find the words to say, not even those who were convinced Eddie would make it out of this ordeal alive and in one piece. Reality had struck them with a delicate harshness, like a sharpened blade parting a single leaf from its branch. Sudden, dexterous, and with an ease of lethal predator. 

“What was it you were telling us before, Stan?” Ben asked, visibly desperate for any form of distraction. “About that envelope you have?” 

Stanley glanced up from where he sat opposite of Richie, leaning close to Eddie’s other side. It was the first time he’d seen the man in person since they were children, the darkness in his eyes a grave reminder of that point. Without a word, Stanley scooped the envelope off the ground and brushed it off with a gentle hand. “It’s something I wrote, before I…in case I...”

A pause. 

“There was one for each of you,” Stanley pressed on despite the pained look in his tired eyes. With his thumb outstretched, Stanley tore the envelope open and slid out a perfectly-folded sheet of paper. From where Richie sat, he could see a lengthy hand-written note through the thin sheet. 

Oh, fuck. 

“Christ, Stan, d-d-did you write us all suicide note-”

“That’s not-” Stanley snapped in order to quickly cut Bill off. He calmed his tone before continuing. “...what they are.” 

“Then what are they?!” Bill asked, flabbergasted. Richie could see the layers of pain that swam in his eyes, how the mere sight of the paper in Stanley’s hands threatened to send him over the edge. 

“A way to help you to understand,” Stanley explained, gaze falling to the letter in his hands, “I need you all to know the reason why I did what I did. And I just...I need you to hear what’s written in here. Please, Bill.” 

Stanley extended the letter in Bill’s direction, a desperate but determined look flashing across his face. When Bill didn’t move from where he stood, arms crossed and eyes locked on Stanley, Mike stepped forward and gingerly took the sheet from Stanley’s light grasp. Mike carefully unfolded the letter and stared at its contents. A heavy, shuddering breath escaped his mouth before he read the first line out loud. “Dear Losers,” Mike read, holding the letter out in front of him with trembling hands. “I know what this must seem like, but this isn’t a suicide note.” 

Bill started to pace where he stood, bring a hand up to rub at his face while he walked. 

“You’re probably wondering why I did what I did,” Mike continued, putting in an effort to read at a slow and steady pace. “It’s because I knew I was too scared to go back. And if we weren’t together, if all of us _alive_ weren’t united, I...knew we’d all die.”

Richie threw a concerned glance at Beverly, who’d gasped and covered her mouth with her hand. He knew what she must’ve been thinking. Beverly looked into the Deadlights and saw the deaths of their friends. Richie, however, only saw Eddie’s. But Beverly...she saw it all. She caught a glimpse of Stanley’s supposed fate, wrists slit and his bathtub filling with blood. Richie could only imagine the thoughts that raced through her head right now.

“So, I made the only...logical move,” Mike said, wincing as he read the letter. “I took myself off the board. Did it work? Well, if you’re reading this, you know the answer.”

Stanley’s eyes fell at that line before he shot a hand up to cover his face. Patty gave him another reassuring squeeze around his shoulders to remind him that he was here. That he was alive and they were all together again. The man glanced back at Patty with a grief-stricken expression, a single tear slipping from the corner of his eye. Patty wiped it away with her thumb. 

“I lived my whole life afraid,” Mike read, “Afraid of what would come next, afraid of what I might leave behind. Don’t. Be who you want to be. Be proud.” 

Be who you want to be. 

Be proud. 

Richie swayed on his feet as those words struck him with a greater ferocity than anything the clown had ever spoke to him. The sting of its cries and insults suddenly felt so little, so weak compared to this strident blow. 

...Be proud.

Fuck, he couldn’t breathe. 

Standing abruptly, Richie clenched his hands at his sides into tight fists and weaved through the others to go stand in the same corner he had before. Stanley must’ve taken notice of the slight commotion, for when Richie turned to face the group once more, the man’s stare was locked on Richie’s. It was an intense gaze, Stanley’s eyes wide and flooded with something Richie couldn’t quite read. Surprise? Doubt? Suspicion? He wasn’t sure. 

_They can’t know your secret, Richie,_ The clown warned. It felt like It had a hand drawn tight around Richie’s neck. He could barely breathe. 

“And if you find someone worth holding onto, never, ever let them go,” Mike continued, not acknowledging Richie’s sporadic movements as he read on, “Follow your own path, wherever that takes you.” 

How could one feel so hot and cold at the same time? Richie’s face and chest burned with a fiery sting, yet his hands felt like ice as he pulled them in towards his chest. He was almost certain his entire body was trembling, but he didn’t have the courage to check if anyone else had noticed him. 

_You don’t want anyone to know what you’re hiding._

“Think of this letter as a promise,” Mike recited, his voice growing more strained, “A promise I’m asking you to make. To me, to each other. An oath.”

Richie shuddered, feeling someone’s gaze on him. He chose not to acknowledge it, and instead focused on the ever-increasing rate of his heartbeats as Mike read on, seemingly oblivious to Richie’s oncoming panic attack. 

_If they know your secret, they’ll abandon you here to die with him._

“See the thing about being a Loser is, you don’t have anything to lose,” Mike read, his own voice starting to crack at the words hand-written before him. “So, be true. Be brave. Stand. Believe. And don’t ever forget. We’re losers. And we always will be...”

_Or is that what you want, Richie?_

Mike’s voice trailed off as he read Stanley’s final words, finally letting the tears he’d been fighting spill down his face. “Stan.” 

_You could simply stay here with him, and let your grief over Eddie’s imminent death take you BOTH back to the weeds._

“S-stan…I-” Bill started, wiping away the tears streaking down his face with both hands. He looked back at Stanley, expression filled with a mix of anguish and guilt, before he replaced it with an understanding smile. “I’m...I’m just g-g-glad y-y-y-y-”

“We’re glad you’re here with us,” Beverly added softly, smiling at Bill through her tears when he shot her a thankful look. 

_You’d never have to tell them, that way. They’ll never have to know your dirty, dirty, dirty secret._

With those words, whatever restraint Richie managed to muster shattered within him. The sensation surged through his being in all directions, raking his body with a piercing pain he’d never before felt. He could feel his heart crumble into dust, leaving nothing but a wisp of dust in its wake. 

He was no better off than the damn clown. 

A broken sob fell from Richie’s lips as he cowered forward, all too aware of the many pairs of eyes that suddenly landed on him. He heard somebody call his name and approach him, Ben maybe, but when Richie lifted his gaze the man stopped in his tracks. 

Something dark awoke in the deepest caverns of Richie’s subconscious. 

It’d been set free, and it felt like _fire_. 

The newfound flame sparked inside Richie’s body and flooded his veins with a charged craze that nearly sent him on a rampage. He could hear the pleased laugh of the clown deep in his thoughts as it played the horrific scene of Eddie’s fated injury again and again and again. Richie swore he could _hear_ the tear of Eddie’s skin as the claw ripped through him and protruded from his abdomen. He swore he could _taste_ the blood that’d splattered on his face. 

_It was your fault, Richie, never forget that._

“Richie?” Ben repeated from across the room, slowly taking another step forwards. 

Richie shook his head, his entire body vibrating under the immense pressure of this hysterical state. It was like the clown had possessed him, yet he was still in full control of his body. “Eddie didn’t deserve this,” He said, voice firm yet also shaking. 

_It should’ve been you, Richie, not him._

“Rich-”

_YOU deserve it._

“If anyone was gonna get stabbed by that clown,” Richie said sharply, cutting Ben off. His eyes looked crazed, giving him an off-putting appearance as his face turned red with rage. “It should’ve been me.” 

_That’s right, Richie, very good._

“Whoa, R-r-richie,” Bill said, voice firm. Raising his hands out and slowly lowering them, he gestured at Richie to calm down. “You s-shouldn't say shit like that.” 

“Why not?” Richie asked, hands flying out to either sides with an exaggerated shrug. “Am I wrong?” 

“You should try and keep a level head, Richie-” Mike tried to cut in. 

“ _I’m_ the dumbass who got caught in the fucking Deadlights, aren’t I?!” Richie cried out, a hand rising to his chest to gesture to himself. A steady flow of tears streaked down either side of his face. 

_Yes, you were, Richie._

“That could’ve been any of us,” Ben interjected calmly, trying to flip Richie’s perspective.

“But it was _me_ , Ben,” Richie snapped harshly, “And if I’d been faster to get out of the way, then Eddie wouldn’t have had to pull that _goddamn hero bullshit!_ ”

_It was your fault, Richie, that’s right._

“But that doesn’t mean you should blame yourself for what happened to Eddie!” Beverly argued. She’d been sitting quietly as the commotion unfolded around her, tears flowing from here eyes as her hands formed tight fists at her sides.

Richie fumed, his voice consumed with a terrifying fury as he started to yell. “Bev, did you not hear what I just fucking said? That is _exactly_ why I should blame myself. If it wasn’t for me he’d be just fine! We wouldn’t even be at a hospital, for fuck’s sake!”

_Good, Richie. Keep going._

“Hey!” Ben shouted, striding over to Beverly and putting himself partially in front of her. “Richie you need to calm down, right now.” 

“Calm?!” Richie laughed, shaking his head. His arms opened up at his sides again, as if begging for an explanation. “I’m so fucking calm right now. It’s _you_ who all need to cal-”

“B-beep beep, Richie!” Bill snapped as he stared at his friend with a new-found horror. 

“Fuck you, Bill,” Richie snapped with a finger pointing sharply at Bill. “Don’t fucking beep me right now!”

In the middle of the haze, Richie caught Stanley’s movements in the corner of his eye. The man still sat on the futon, the anguish clear on his face. His gaze was once again locked on Richie, Stanley staring him down with narrowed eyes and great focus. Richie shuffled backwards at the sight. 

“Eddie didn’t _have_ to save you, Richie,” Stanley said in a stern but level voice. “It was a choice he made on his own.” 

“A choice that he shouldn’t have had to fucking make!” Richie fought back, chest pointedly rising and falling with a greater intensity as his breathing became labored. He couldn’t keep still, hands trembling as he paced in the small area around him.

_Yes, Richie, it was all your fault._

“B-but it _was_ a choice, in the end,” Bill countered, determined to get through to Richie, “And Eddie _chose_ to save you!” 

“Yeah? _Well maybe I didn’t deserve to be saved!_ ” Richie yelled back without hesitation, pausing for a quick moment to catch his breath, “Maybe he chose _wrong_!”

The clown laughed wildly in Richie’s head, sending searing vibrations down the man’s body that made him shiver. 

Hellfire raged uncontrollably in Richie’s blood. 

“ _Richard Tozier!_ ” Beverly exclaimed, stepping out from behind Ben. Her voice seemed to bounce off the walls of the room, drowning out any other sound as her stare pierced Richie deeper than any dagger. “Don’t you _dare_ say that.” 

Richie’s facade dropped for a fraction of a second out of shock, but he quickly regained his composure. Beverly _never_ used his full name. “Bev,” He said with slightly less force. “I-”

“If Eddie could go back and do it all again,” Mike said, not letting Richie finish his sentence, “I think we all know that he wouldn’t change a thing, as long as it meant saving the rest of us and winning against It.” 

_He’s lying, Richie._

Richie stared back at him with his eyes widening and mouth hanging open. His hands shook as he blinked, more tears spilling over. “Don’t,” Richie warned, his fury once again gaining traction in his voice, “Don’t start with that shit!” 

“We know how m-much you care about him, Richie,” Bill said, actively trying to soften the tone of his voice. 

Richie laughed again, much louder this time, that familiar crazed expression crawling its way back onto his face. For the shortest moment, Richie couldn’t tell the difference between his laugh and the clown’s.

“W-what the hell is so f-funny about that, Tozier?!” Bill snapped, immediately losing his temper at Richie’s reaction. 

“What’s funny, you ask?” Richie smiled, raising his eyebrows and leaning forward. “Just how you all seem to think you understand _exactly_ how the fuck I’m feeling!” 

“Richie,” Beverly said, a hurt expression overtaking her face. “We care about Eddie, too.” 

“No...no, no!” Richie shook his head, raising a finger as he started to angrily pace again. “You don’t get it! _None_ of you get it!” 

“Richie,” Stanley breathed, finally standing to his feet. His expression remained stoic, despite the chaos in the small and confined room. That same unreadable look from before swam in his eyes, penetrating Richie’s facade with ease. He raised his hands in warning. “Rich, listen to me-”

“W-w-why wouldn’t we understand?” Bill asked, puzzled. “Eddie is _our_ friend t-too, Richie.” 

Richie’s patience had grown thin. He flexed his hands repeatedly at his sides as sweat started to drip down from his forehead. His vision grew blurred, and his breaths came out in forced huffs. 

_They can’t know your secret, Richie._

“Because it was fucking different for me, okay Bill?!” Richie shouted, the others jumping back at the sudden brutality in his voice. “You may _think_ you can, but not a single one of you could even _begin_ to fathom what I’m fucking going through right now!” 

“Then help us understand, Richie!” Ben pleaded, raising the volume of his voice to better meet Richie’s. 

_Beep beep!_

“Oh no, Ben...you, you specifically, can _shut the fuck up_!” Richie bellowed, pointing a finger at Ben when the man tried to take a step closer. 

“Richie, what-” Ben started, eyes wide as if he’d been injured. 

_Beep beep, fat boy! Beep beep! Beep beep! Beep beep!_

“Ben, you will _never_ understand what it’s like...” Richie snapped as the others watched in horror beside him. “...because _you got to have your goddamn happy ending with Beverly!_ ” 

Confusion flashed on Ben’s face. “Richie what does that have to do with this?” 

_Beep beep! Beep beep! Beep beep! Beep beep! Beep beep! Beep beep!_

Richie could sense the exact moment the last of his self-control snapped into jagged pieces. The moment when the fire in his veins enveloped every last fiber of his being, consuming him and every bit of his sanity with it. 

“ _Because you didn’t have to watch the love of your fucking life nearly die in your arms!_ ” Richie screamed. 

An inescapable onslaught of silence swarmed the room, obliterating every thought, every sense, every notion…

Until nothing remained. 

It was Stanley whose Richie’s gaze fell upon first. He slowly moved towards Richie, weaving around the paralyzed figures of everyone else in the room. Richie flinched under the weight of his gaze, which held no shock or anger. 

Only devastation. 

And pity. 

“Richie…” Stanley started. He halted in his tracks at Richie’s sporadic jerk backwards, careful not to set the man off again. The others remained where they were, as if frozen in time, with their eyes all pointed in Richie’s direction. “Richie, we-”

_...What have you DONE, Richie?_

“What?” Richie snorted, plastering a large smile across his face to mask the misery lurking just beneath the surface. “Not what you expected?” 

_They know._

“Richie, sweetheart…” Beverly breathed, her voice no louder than a whisper as fresh tears spilled from her eyes. Something was different this time, though. A new tenderness to her speech. 

He ignored her. 

“I know what you’re probably thinking,” Richie added, huffing another laugh as his eyes grew glassy. He struggled desperately to hold his smile as the anguish that pooled in his core grew five-fold. “Richie ‘I fucked your mom’ Tozier, a flaming homosexual?! Impossible, right?!”

“We don’t-” Mike started, voice just as gentle as Beverly’s.

“Remember how Bowers used to call me a fucking fairy, or how the girls at school would write that I sucked flamer cock on the girls bathroom stall?!” Richie prodded, eyebrows raised in expectation. “Turns out those assholes knew before even _I_ fucking did! All of that internalized homophobia and constant fear of rejection probably didn’t help with that much, huh?” 

“Richie, w-will you please-” Bill tried to speak. He’d sat back down on the couch, eyes unfocused as he talked. 

“-Tell you what the absolute worst part of it all was? Sure thing, Billiam,” Richie said pointedly, visibly flinching when a single tear escaped the corner of his eye and cascaded down his flushed face. 

_They know your dirty secret, Richie._

Agony ripped through Richie’s chest as he started to grow weak, his energy spent. He could feel himself losing his own battle inside him, a numbing pain taking over in its place. A pain Riche knew was there but couldn’t feel, an entity threatening to tear him apart from the inside if he showed one second of weakness. “It was him from the start,” Richie said, finally letting his forced smile fade from his face as he fell into a deep, mournful longing that felt like a punch to the gut. His voice grew quiet, like someone had flipped a switch in his mind and turned off the clown’s voice, even if only for a few short moments. “It was Eddie, even after all those years when I...forgot he existed. It was _always_ him.” 

Ben saw the change in Richie’s expression, noticed how his shoulders slumped and head hung low. He took a hesitant step forward, raising his hands in front of him. “Richie, listen-” 

Richie continued to ignore everyone else, as if looking them in the eye would make the world around him fall apart. His voice cracked when he finally poured out his heart and confessed to the gnawing secret he’d been harboring inside him for so, so long. “I was in love with my best friend for thirty goddamn years.” 

When he was young, Richie would gaze at the night sky and see stars strewn against an infinite sea of black. The universe was endless, yet here he was living in it, nothing but a fraction of its expanse. Even so, having Eddie at his side made Richie feel boundless. 

But in this moment, whatever hopes and dreams laid beyond this room had vanished, ceasing to exist as Richie’s world splintered into shreds around him.

 _Eddie is going to die, Richie,_ The voice uttered in an aggressive and threatening tone as it clawed its way back into Richie’s conscious thoughts. _There’s no stopping the inevitable._

“...And now he might not ever wake up,” Richie forced out, putting in one last ditch effort to keep it together. Seeing the heartbroken expressions from the other Losers, however, pulverized him within seconds. 

_And you will be all alone again. Forever._

“Fuck,” Richie cursed to himself. “FUCK!” More tears streamed down his face, hands clenching and unclenching at his sides as he started to pace again. “I watched the life leaving his eyes, right in front of me. Eddie saved me when I screwed up and _he_ had to pay the fucking price for it!” 

Beverly made another move towards Richie, eyes watering when he flinched away from the gesture. 

“Don’t,” Richie choked. He backed away from the group with his arms folded tightly in front of him. Pure fright glistened in Richie’s eyes, but he was fairly certain that the only one who could see it was Stanley. The man still stared at him in silence, expression stoic as the others succumbed to their panic around him

“Richie, honey...” Beverly cried, voice high. Richie shook his head at her, backing into the wall with an abrupt thud. Wet tears streaked the lenses of his cracked glasses. But Beverly didn’t stop, cautiously reaching up to graze her fingers lightly over Richie’s upper arm. 

“Don’t fucking touch me,” Richie muttered, Eddie’s own words echoing in his mind as he spoke them aloud. He jerked to the side like he’d just been burned before slipping past Beverly and away from the wall. His arms quickly shot up to wrap around his chest in an awkward fashion. Eyes falling shut, Richie sucked in a few deep breaths. He could tell them, he could tell them everything and just be done with it. 

_Then they would abandon you with Eddie to die just how you lived, alone._

“Nope! No,” Richie said moments later, throwing his arms up in the air in defeat. “I can’t fucking do this...this was a mistake.” 

Without another word, Richie spun on his heel and made to stride out of the room, only to have a strong hand firmly grip his upper arm and hold him in place. Craning his neck to glance back, Richie found himself face-to-face with Stanley. “Can you guys give us a minute?” Stanley asked the others without breaking his stare with Richie, who averted his gaze instinctively. 

Ben was the first to move. He shot Stanley a concerned but reassuring glance as he ushered everyone else through the doorway. Richie couldn’t bare to look at any of them as they passed, especially Beverly. He could _feel_ the remorse radiating from her body, the sensation nearly sending Richie over the edge right then and there. Sucking in a deep breath, Richie fought to maintain what remained of his composure. 

By the time Richie glanced back up at Stanley, everyone had cleared out from the room except for Patty, who silently approached the door. She stood on her toes to plant a kiss of Stanley’s cheek before shooting a saddened smile at Richie as she left. 

And then they were alone. 

“Turn around, Rich,” Stanley whispered, his voice so quiet Richie nearly missed it. Richie did as Stanley asked, flinching as the man’s hands made their way to either of his shoulders. Richie swallowed nervously as a chill ran down his spine. He met Stanley’s eyes once more, and found himself locked in wordless conversation comprised of nothing but their stares. It was something he and Stanley often did as kids, when forced to sit on opposite sides of the room in some of their classes. All one of them had to do was shoot the other a quick but steady glance, face stoic, and the other would understand what was said. 

Stanley was the only person Richie every developed such a language with. 

Not even he and Eddie shared that ability. 

Scanning the depths of his eyes that his behind cracked lenses, Stanley could clearly see the question that toed the line of Richie’s conscious mind. It lingered in his eyes like sunbeams against rolling ocean water. 

_Did you know, Stan?_ Richie asked with his eyes, fearful of the reply he’d receive. He could feel the entity inside him lurking in the shadows as if waiting to strike again. Another rush of panic struck him like a hammer to a nail as he searched Stanley’s eyes for an answer. 

Stanley’s gaze was absolute. 

_Yes,_ Stanley admitted with a soften expression, _I was fairly certain._

Richie blinked rapidly, but failed to quell the tears that formed so suddenly in his eyes. A few spilled from the edges as Stanley held an unwavering gaze, determined to keep Richie focused and grounded. He knew Richie always had trouble with that, even since he was a kid. His mind just raced so quickly sometimes. With a slight tilt of his head, Richie narrowed his eyes and did his best to look back at Stanley through his steady flow of tears. _Why didn’t you ever say anything?_

A sigh fell from Stanley’s mouth before he answered, his expression shifting in just the slightest way to form an apologetic stare. _It wasn’t my place to ask, Tozier._

The entity in Richie’s mind suddenly shifted, prowling closer to the light of his conscious mind. It’s growing presence made him shudder as he felt his shoulders tense beneath Stanley’s firm grasp. Richie knew Stanley felt it too when he saw the man’s brows furrowed with concern. _Stan,_ Richie said with a petrified gaze, heart pounding absurdly loud in his chest, _Will this change anything between us?_

Richie knew the answer, of course he knew the fucking answer. Stanley was his best friend in the entire goddamn world, and he always knew that nothing would ever change that. So why the _hell_ did he feel so unsure? Why did such a raw and agonizing fear consume his entire being every waking moment the thought crossed his mind? 

But yet again, how could he be so sure that _nothing_ would change? 

_That’s right, Richie,_ The clown encouraged as it emerged from the midnight shadows of Richie’s subconscious. It dwelled in his mind as if it’d lived there all his life, maneuvering his thoughts with the greatest ease. _How can you be sure you can trust them?_

Stanley’s frown grew more prominent at Richie’s unspoken words, almost as if he’d been trying to see whether Richie’s question was genuinely serious or not. But Richie held his gaze as he sniffed, more tears falling down his face. That look must’ve been enough, for Stanley stared back at Richie as the sides of his mouth curved upwards just the slightest fraction. _Of course not, Rich._

 _He’s lying,_ The clown warned in an ominous tone, _You can see it on his face_. 

Richie read the words in Stanley’s eyes and saw them clearly for what they were. The man’s gaze was true, and Richie waited for the surge of reassurance to cross him at the sight. But it never came. The clown’s grip on Richie’s rationality shook him to the brink, weighing him down so forcefully that every conscious thought slipped from his mind. 

Richie felt empty. 

Unable to perceive what was real and what wasn’t, so lost in the caverns of his own mind that none of Ben’s phrases could ever pull him out. He didn’t know what or who to believe, so paranoid that he couldn’t even trust himself. 

“Stan,” Richie uttered, his lifeless voice cracking. 

“Yeah?” Stanley said calmly. 

“I need to talk to him, to Eddie,” Richie admitted weakly as he averted his gaze, unable to look Stanley in the eyes as he made his timid request, “Just the two of us.” 

Stanley opened his mouth to object, but stopped upon seeing the pleading expression in Richie’s bloodshot eyes. It was then he understood that Eddie was the only one who could give Richie what he needed right now, even if he wasn’t awake to listen. With a final, comforting squeeze of Richie’s shoulders, Stanley took a step back and gave Richie a quick nod. “I’m gonna stay out in the hallway, okay?” He asked as he walked towards the door and placed his hand on the metal knob, “Come get me if you need me.” 

Richie nodded, another tear slipping down his face. “Thank you, Stan.” 

With the subtle click of the door slipping shut, Richie let his eyes fall shut as he gradually navigated himself towards the end of Eddie’s bed. When he opened his eyes, he was face-to-face with the unconscious man as the sounds of beeping monitors droned on beside him. 

_Eddie._

A sharp pang hit Richie’s stomach as he slowly drifted towards the side of Eddie’s bed, the thought of Eddie being trapped in this lifeless state forever haunting his thoughts. 

_Oh, Eddie._

And if Eddie were to remain in that world, so close to Richie yet unattainably out-of-reach, then so be it. Whatever life of torment Richie had laid out before him, let it fall into place. For right now, in this moment, Richie had to make sure Eddie knew, no matter the outcome of this mess. 

_Eddie, my love._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Low Roar - Low Roar 
> 
> Two gave a low roar different?  
> Different  
> Two gave a low roar different?  
> Different  
> Two gave a low roar different?  
> Different  
> Two gave a low roar different?  
> Different  
> Two gave a low roar different?  
> Different  
> Two gave a low roar different?  
> Different  
> Two gave a low roar different?  
> Different


	24. Eight

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: MENTION OF SELF-DEPRECATING/SUICIDAL THOUGHTS, HOMOPHOBIC SLURS (MULTIPLE), INTERNALIZED HOMOPHOBIA

Every step towards Eddie’s bed was more exerting than the last. 

It was as if two forces were acting on Richie at once. One entity dragged him towards the door with invisible bonds, while the other worked to slice those bonds with freshly-sharpened swords. Richie felt trapped, caught in a slip between worlds as he fought with tenacity to reach Eddie’s bedside. As quickly as the forces appeared, they vanished once Richie reached the chair. His entire body gave way and he collapsed into the seat, energy spent and determination waning. He was so tired, so lost in the words of his friends and the clown’s, unable to distinguish what was true and what wasn’t. 

Knowing only one thing would be capable of grounding him, Richie outstretched his hands and shakily took Eddie’s in his own. Ignoring the bleak chill to Eddie’s hand, he let his eyes fall shut. The touch was gentle, barely there. But its strength was just, and with every second that passed a new image flooded Richie’s mind. Memories he’d long forgotten. 

Richie saw Eddie’s face. 

Richie walked him to the pharmacy sometimes after Eddie was scolded by his mother. They’d walk side-by-side, mostly in a comfortable silence, as Richie tried to steal glances of Eddie when he thought the boy wasn’t looking. It was like a secret dance between the two. Eddie almost never noticed, but when he did, Richie always resorted to sharing a crude joke about his mother. Eddie would roll his eyes, but could never fully mask the smile that formed on his face. And Richie, heart jumping at the sight, continued to tease and joke with Eddie until he was fully grinning and giddy with laughter. Richie admired his laugh more than anything. The sound of it never failed to give him butterflies in his stomach, or so he used to say. 

From the year they’d met, Richie formed a bond with Eddie that he couldn’t achieve with any other Loser. 

They built an unparalleled trust, and knew they could depend on each other. 

Richie relaxed at the memory, and even found the edges of his mouth curving upwards in the slightest fraction. He could still hear Eddie’s laugh from those walks as the sound blocking out anything else around them. It was a moment he wished he could live in forever. 

A loud crashing noise in his memories made Richie jump as he watched the joyous grin on Eddie’s face morph into one of fear and hatred. Richie watched as the boy quickly pivoted on his heels and sprinted the other way. The image in Richie’s head then panned to look behind where he was standing to reveal the entrance to the old arcade. 

Richie saw Bowers. 

He remembered that day in the arcade, during the time when the Losers had fought and weren’t on speaking terms. It was the most alone Richie had ever felt in his life. To rid himself of that consuming realization, he spent almost every day at the arcade. Street Fight had always been his favorite. 

_Richie fucking Tozier? Wait, are you trying to bone my little cousin?_

Richie remembered what Bowers called him. He remembered how the word sliced through him like a knife, tearing loose the darkest fears he’d stowed away in the depths of his mind. He remembered how all the other kids looked at him, shock and disgust on their faces, as they slowly backed away and left Richie standing there. Their stares pierced him with more force than a train. 

Alone. Vulnerable. Exposed. 

_Get the fuck out of here, faggot!_

That wasn’t the first time Richie had been called that word, and Bowers wasn’t the first person to do so. But once Bowers did it, the entire town seemed to pick up on the notion. And they all believed it. It was a year after they’d defeated It for the first time when Richie heard the hushed whispers coming from the Clubhouse as he approached. To keep so quiet when out in the forest was suspicious. Nobody else ever came out that way except for the Losers, nobody else even knew the Clubhouse existed. Even so, Richie waited by the closed entrance and leaned his ear down towards the ground to listen. 

Richie remembered hearing Beverly’s nervous voice as she muttered something serious to Stanley. He remembered how she told him what she’d seen written on the stall in the girl’s bathroom at school, and what it said about Richie. 

_Richie Tozier sucks flamer cock._

Beverly had told Stanley, her voice strung with fear, that she crossed the whole thing out with black marker. That was all Richie could recall. Once he’d heard those words, he shot up and bolted back down the secluded forest path, desperate to get away. Beverly’s words had stung him and left their mark, and there was nothing Richie could do to rid his memory of the phrase. Beverly sounded so… _terrified_ while she spoke, and Richie couldn’t help but believe that it was because she was scared the words she’d crossed out were true. 

_You’re....you’re one of them?_

It was on those days that the fear instilled in Richie’s heart by the clown would wreak havoc on his vulnerable mind. The clown was gone, Richie knew that, but the notions It’d left in his head were so powerful they never truly went away. And so, Richie lived his life carrying a secret burden that slowly grew and festered within him. It followed him to school, to the Clubhouse, to the quarry, to his home and, eventually, outside of Derry. 

_They can’t know your secret, Richie._

Even as Richie’s memories of Derry and the Losers started to fade, a mysterious inkling lurked in his head, one that would shape the rest of his life. To be marred with such self-doubt drove Richie to spend his life alone, where he knew he’d be safe. If nobody ever knew the truth about him, then Richie could never be hurt for it. 

_You can’t let them know what you’re hiding._

So, Richie spent his life in isolation, cut off from any meaningful relationship with anyone else. Without that connection, Richie’s life grew meaningless. And, as Richie learned early on in his career, no amount of fame or adoring fans could ever make up for it. But at least he was safe. Nobody could abandon him if he didn’t have anyone to hold onto in the first place. 

_You were alone._

Useless. 

_You’re still alone._

Worthless.

_And once Eddie dies, you will always be alone._

...Pointless. 

But now, Richie was back in Maine with his friends from childhood. The people who he once called family, and would gladly do so again without hesitation. He’d never been closer to anyone else in his life, not even his parents, yet guilt clouded Richie’s mind when he realized that not even the Losers truly knew him. Richie never told them his secret in fear they’d abandon him, fearful and disgusted with who he was. 

_If they know your secret, they’ll leave you here to die with him._

And, as Richie quickly discovered upon returning to Derry, that feeling never left the deep subconscious centers of his mind. The notion had rooted itself into his brain so deeply that it became integrated into what defined him as a person. 

Afraid to open up. 

Afraid of connection. 

Afraid of the world finding out who he really was. 

Heart racing in his chest, Richie’s eyes shot open as they darted around the room. He’d forgotten where he was, consumed by the voice that plagued his mind. It took nearly a minute for his breathing to slow and for his eyes to fall back on Eddie’s unconscious face. Tightening his grip on Eddie’s hand, Richie locked his gaze on the man’s face. He leaned in even closer and rested his elbows on the edges of the mattress. The closer he moved, the further the voice felt inside his mind. The movement gave Richie a new sense of clarity, which he immediately used to put up a barrier between himself and the clown’s presence. Some time passed before Richie’s thoughts drifted back to Eddie, the voices finally fading to a dull and muffled chatter in the back of his head. 

Richie’s gaze returned to Eddie’s face.

They both may have aged, but Richie could still see the same young hypochondriac that would never shut the fuck up about the possibilities of Richie getting an infection after getting dirty, or bickered with Richie for hours on end in the Clubhouse, or stared at Richie in concerned silence when he woke from a nightmare about their fight at Neibolt. 

In some ways, he hadn’t changed at all. 

“Uh,” Richie stammered, flinching at the cracks in his voice that bounced so loudly off the walls of the otherwise quiet room. “Hi, Eddie.” 

Richie knew he’d be met with silence, but experiencing it first-hand didn’t make it any less difficult to endure. “Everyone else knows now,” He muttered, nervously shooting up his hand to adjust his glasses, “I told them. And it’s not...fair if I don’t tell you directly. Out loud, just...j-just the two of us.” 

Stomach twisting, Richie felt his body clench in his seat as it fought against every urge to say his next words out loud. It was instinctual, a natural reaction to the thought of such unspoken things. Secrets that nobody knew, not until tonight. Richie could feel the entity in his head grow furious, its energy pulsing through his veins despite its silent spectation. He knew it was there, waiting, feeding off his fear. 

“I love you, Eddie Spaghetti,” Richie admitted, voice gentle. It was the first time he’d said the words out loud and to another person. A pang of strife struck Richie right in the heart, and he knew the clown was behind it. “I realized I loved you that summer, the day you almost died. There was a moment when...I thought It got you. That I’d never see you again. And the thought ate me up inside and it wouldn’t go away. Still hasn’t Eds.” 

The clown chuckled, finally deciding to make its presence known. Its voice was faint, and barely audible through the barrier Richie hastily built between them. _And I DID get him this time, Richie, all thanks to you._

“It was you from the start,” Richie said, breath hitching. The ominous presence that now loomed freely in his mind scratched at him with sharpened claws, leaving searing streaks of fire burning down the barriers of his head. “It was always you, and...it will _always_ be you.”

Richie’s eyes fell shut once more and he was met with Eddie’s face. He was just a young boy at first, smiling back at him with that slight gleam in his eye. Then he grew, aging with every second that passed until he finally reached adulthood and appeared as he did now. Older, but still the same man Richie’s heart so effortlessly fell for. The way Eddie smiled at the restaurant flashed in Richie’s mind, only to be followed by the memory of what he said immediately after. Richie had asked him if he was married, and the answer was yes, and to a woman. It was such a strange sensation, to feel such heartbreak over someone Richie had just met less than an hour prior. All of the memories of him were there, but they were so hazy Richie could barely distinguish them. 

The only thing he knew for certain was his unwavering affection for Eddie that hadn’t diminished at all since his long time away from him and Derry. Those feelings were what brought the rest of his memories back so quickly. It was like they were a beacon, a guiding light for those who longed to be retrieved but could not find the way on their own. Within hours of their reunion, Richie remembered almost everything so vividly that it was like none of them had ever left. 

“I wanted to confess everything, you know, when all of this was over,” Richie said, his voice strained. “When we won, together.” 

But how could he?

Seeing Eddie again struck new feelings that Richie didn’t even know were possible to experience. It gave him an unfamiliar sense of confidence, overwhelming him with the desire to spill everything to Eddie once and for all. Richie knew he was married and that he didn’t swing the same way as him, but that didn’t even matter. Richie would tell Eddie and he would finally be freed from the burden he’d been carrying for a majority of his life. All Richie wanted was for Eddie to know how much he cared for him, but that same trickling fear from his youth came flooding back with more force than a hurricane. He could hear the slurs Bowers called him and feel the same sting that left wounds within him like they were still freshly dealt. 

And nothing terrified Richie more than losing Eddie, not after he’d just gotten him back again. 

By the time they’d all arrived at Neibolt, Richie could barely breathe under the pressure of the weighted thoughts invading his head. He loved Eddie, he loved him so fucking much. The exhilaration he’d felt when he reassured Eddie was nothing like he’d ever felt before. For the first time in nearly all his life, Richie had finally found purpose again, and it was to live for Eddie. To protect him, to make sure he made it out of there alive. And this unsung oath wasn’t just for Eddie, but for the other Losers as well. It didn’t matter if they didn’t know Richie’s secret, because they’d all be alive and safe and happy and together. 

And for Richie, who’d lived so many years alone, having the Losers back at his side was more than enough. 

The idea gave him such a thrill. There was so much adrenaline pulsing through his body that he thought he may burst. But he took that energy, kindled it, and reapplied it in his endeavors to shield the others from peril. It worked, at first, when Richie saved Mike from the clown’s sharp claws by distracting it. 

_Hey, fuckface! Wanna play truth or dare? Here’s the truth...you’re a sloppy bitch! Yeah, that’s right!_

But then the clown struck Eddie. 

And Eddie nearly died. 

_It’s only a matter of time, Richie,_ The clown teased, its voice growing more clear as it harshly pounded against the barrier with its fists. It tore at the wall like a feral animal, screeching and howling as it gradually broke through. The sound sent chills down to Richie’s core. 

It was his fault, and Eddie almost paid for it with his life. 

And he still might. 

“I wanted to drive you to the Kissing Bridge to prove how much you meant to me,” Richie breathed through clenched teeth, his eyes still squeezed shut as he spoke. “I carved our initials there, Eds, during that same summer we fought It. I...I didn’t know how else to express how I felt about you without the fear of losing you.” 

_And you WILL lose him, soon enough,_ The voice countered with a new venom in its voice, striking with great ferocity. _Now that you’ve told them everything._

Opening his eyes, Richie gazed down upon Eddie’s unmoving face. His stomach dropped as he found himself studying every minor detail of Eddie, his face, his hair, his hands. He eyed them with such intensity, as if it were the last time he’d ever see them. As if he were about to be cut off forever for telling the others what he had. If Richie had been just a bit faster, he never would’ve had to face this. 

But here he sat, Eddie’s life slowly slipping away from him with every weakening heartbeat.

New liver or not, the damage had been done. 

He was dying, Richie knew it. 

“You were supposed to _live_ , Eddie!” Richie exclaimed, a helpless, ragged sigh escaping his mouth. He suddenly shot up from his chair at the fearful jolt that struck his skin. The sensation was followed by keen laughter in his head, and Richie yanked at his hair in an attempt to stifle it. “We were supposed to live happy lives when this was all over!” 

_That’s right, Richie. But now you can’t, and it’s all because of you._ The clown compelled Richie to continue as it fed so ravenously off of Richie’s intrusive thoughts. 

Movement outside the door’s window caught Richie’s eye, and he turned to find himself locking eyes with Ben. The man peered in from the hallway, expression flooded with frantic concern, after hearing what Richie assumed to be his own shouts. That’s when Richie caught a glimpse of his own reflection. 

...Jesus.

He looked hysteric.

He looked no better than the clown as he laid before them in Neibolt, body shriveled and decaying as the Loser’s words struck him like the deadly blows of a sword. 

After all these days, Richie never caught a glimpse of what the clown had shaped him to be. He’d been living, letting his wounds fester and rot, giving the clown the strength it needed to manipulate him with ease. Hair matted and wild, Richie looked like he’d been wandering the forest alone for days. If a few layers of dirt and muk were splotched across his face and arms, he’d believe it. The look in his eyes were crazed, and so similar to that of the clown’s that Richie nearly fainted from the sight. 

This wasn’t him.

This wasn’t who he was. 

This was no more than the being who lashed out at the people closest to him, driving them away when he needed them most. 

And the most terrifying part was that Richie didn’t know what parts of his mind were truly his, and what belonged to the parasite that lived within him. Richie would’ve lost himself to panic if it hadn’t been for Ben’s hardening stare. His expression grew dark as the color drained from his face, but he held his gaze firm on Richie. Exhaling a heavy stuttering breath, Richie let his eyes fall shut as he attempted to ground himself once again. He played Ben’s voice in his head and listened to the words so carefully, only focusing on the phrases they’d made together and nothing else. Desperation poured from his heart, a few tears escaping from his eyes at the overwhelming sensation. Richie was so fucking tired, he wanted this all to end...before It ended him. 

Eddie wasn’t dead.

 _He will be,_ The clown warned. 

_SHUT THE FUCK UP!_ Richie shot back as a nervous rush washed over him. He’d never stood up to the voice before. _Eddie got a new liver, he’s not going to die._

None of this was Richie’s fault. 

_That’s a lie,_ The voice claimed, the tone of its voice shifting to something Richie hadn’t heard before. 

_No, it-_ Richie stopped mid-thought, opening his eyes again to meet Ben’s. He remembered the long talks they’d had, whether it was in Eddie’s room or in the hotel’s common room after everyone else had fallen asleep. He remembered the way Ben looked at him with such astonishment and pity after learning how much Richie blamed himself for, even when Richie only revealed fractions of the truth to him. He remembered how terribly the words Ben made him say tasted on his tongue, how he couldn’t bring himself to believe them. 

A fierce determination overcame Ben’s gaze as he stared at Richie with more meaning. Its authenticity and intensity gave Richie the strength he needed to fight back against the growing power of the voice invading his every thought. With a hesitant sigh, Richie pulled the images of the final fight at Neibolt to the front of his mind. 

Except this time, they weren’t Richie’s memories. They were Ben’s, as told from his point-of-view from the day prior. 

Richie could see himself, from an unreachable distance, body caught in the Deadlights as Eddie watched in horror from below. He could see the fearful expression on Eddie’s face gradually shift to a determined one, a look lacking doubt or hesitation. He could see the metal rod fly from Eddie’s carefully-aimed hand before striking the clown right on its target. He could see his own body plummet from the air and hit the ground with a loud and painful thud. He could see Eddie, pierced by the clown’s jagged claw as he triumphantly knelt over him. 

It was a picture Richie refused to let himself see, or let himself believe up until this moment. The clown had had such a tight grip on his mind, that no thoughts were allowed in or out without its consent. And knowing what Ben’s perspective would do to Richie, the clown cast it out, away into the abyss of lost memories. But the entity in his head was growing weaker, frightened by Richie’s sudden surge of assurance. 

It was _scared_. 

Sensing the change, Richie replayed the scene in his mind again and again, solidifying the sight and weaving it into his thoughts. 

Eddie saved Richie’s life. 

Eddie nearly died saving him. 

But Eddie was alive, he was right here. 

_No, Richie, it was your fault! You’re the reason he’s here, and you’re the reason he’s going to die!_ The clown practically screeched as it tore down the remaining barriers of Richie’s mind. 

_You’re lying,_ Richie shot back, the same rage emanating from Ben’s recovered memories now fueling his vengeful pursuit. _And you know it._

Richie met Ben’s gaze once again, the man through the window seemingly coaching Richie through his ordeal without using anything but the expression on his face. He wore the same look he had during all of their secret sessions, a look of blatant worry and reassurance. A combination that overwhelmed Richie at first, but later comforted him more than any of Ben’s words ever did. 

None of this was Richie’s fault. 

_You know that’s not true, Richie,_ The clown countered. 

It wasn’t until now that Richie realized the change of tone in It's voice was a true and genuine fear. It wasn’t just scared that Richie would stop believing it, it was terrified that Richie would discover a way to wipe it out for good. The thought alone sent waves of adrenaline coursing through Richie’s entire body. 

He could fight It. 

He could win. 

Richie knew he could, as he stared into Ben’s locked gaze, because he wasn’t alone. He couldn’t truly believe that sentiment before. Not until now. The clown’s power over him had been far too strong, but a single glimpse of reality in that window was enough to finally turn the tides. Richie refused to let himself become what he feared for so long. 

None of this was Richie’s fault...

...because it was the _clown’s_ fault. 

_You’re weak, pathetic,_ The voice growled, prowling Richie’s mind as though it were a waiting predator. _Pushing the blame on me won’t change the truth, Richie._

 _No, blaming you won’t change the truth,_ Richie agreed, teeth clenched as he spat his retort with the same level of disgust. _It will help me finally see it._

It was the clown’s fault.

_Stop LYING to yourself, Richie!_

The clown was dead now. 

_Nothing that dies in Derry ever really di-_

It can’t come back.

_I never left, Ri-_

It won’t come back. 

Richie flinched, waiting for the voice to strike back with the same force, but he was only met with a weakening growl. It was searching for something desperately, anything at all, that it would use against Richie. Something that was still potent enough to work on him. And to Richie’s newfound relief, there wasn’t much. But the one thing Richie kept concealed so deeply, hidden away from the light, was all that remained. And that gave the clown no other option but to dig it back up again and drag it back to the surface. 

_It doesn’t matter whether it’s your fault or not,_ The clown chuckled, toying with its new collection of memories. It fiddled with the ones mostly recently recalled, flashes of them spilling over into Richie’s conscious mind. 

Richie saw Bowers. 

And the bathroom stall. 

He remembered what everyone said about him. 

_It doesn’t matter,_ The voice repeated, relishing the joy of the new jolt of fear that struck Richie’s heart. _In the end, they’ll all leave you for you revealed to them._

Richie toppled forward, collapsing onto his knees and bringing his hands to press down on either side of his head. He tightened his arms in a desperate attempt to block out the growing sounds of the clown’s voice, but his efforts proved to be in vain. It hand its grip around Richie once again, slowing dragging him closer and closer to the same invisible bonds he was restrained with before. Like a spider collecting the helpless prey ensnared in its intricate webbing. A hauntingly familiar scene abruptly appeared behind his closing eyes, flooding his body with horrified anticipation. Richie recognized this memory well and he knew what happened next. Only this time, Richie was a mere spectator, watching the nightmare unfold before him. 

“Oh shit, Eds,” Richie gasped, trembling as he adjusted his glasses and extended a hand towards Eddie. They were all back in the cavern, Eddie’s tiny form impaled by the claw of the defeated clown. Richie kneeled above him, desperately inching closer to put pressure on the boy’s wound. “We gotta get you out of here.” 

Eddie, who’d been previously preoccupied with his wound, suddenly shot his head up to look at Richie before inhaling a sharp breath and jerking away. “You’re... you’re one of them!” He snapped, eyes filled with both rage and disgust, “Don’t fucking touch me!”

Richie cringed at the words as he watched the expression of his younger self shatter into nothing but anguish and defeat. Tears threatened to spill from his eyes as he watched the child beg Eddie for acceptance. 

”Eddie, please,” The boy cried, reaching out again. “Eddie it’s...it’s me...it’s Richie…” 

”Stay away from me!” Eddie jerked back even further as he hacked up another mouthful of blood. “Do NOT fucking touch me!”

”Eds...p-please let me help you,” Richie sobbed, his older watching with a horrified expression and unseen by him or Eddie. “...What the hell are you all doing?! Don’t just stand there, help me with him!” 

Richie jumped back with fright as the figures of the five remaining Losers all materialized behind the two children in front of him. They stood in a perfect semi-circle, their backs straight and arms flattened at their sides. A fire sparked in their eyes, their stares breaking into Richie’s mind as they tore across his skin and left searing burns. Even though they weren’t staring at him, Richie could still feel their penetrating gaze tear through him like he was nothing more than paper. 

The child before him stood as an overwhelming wave of grief flashed across his face. He recoiled when the others did nothing but glare at him with a piercing stare sharper than a dagger. “Guys...it’s me,” Richie cried out, stumbling backwards and closer to his older counterpart. 

“You...like Eddie?” The young form of Bill grimaced with a horror-struck expression. 

“I...shit,” The younger Richie started, his voice growing higher as the fear he’d been trying so desperately to suppress started to break free. He felt his heart leapt to his throat as he forced himself to answer. “Yes, I-”

“But you’re both boys,” Beverly countered with great disgust. The look in her eyes were no different than the ones the other kids gave him in the arcade that day. Hatred, fear, rejection. It was all there on her face, blazing like an eternal flame that would never cease. 

_I told you they couldn’t find out your secret, Richie,_ The voice boomed, sounding as though it was present in the cavern itself. The walls shook with the ferocity of its words. 

The Losers took a step forward in-sync, sending Richie stumbling back once again. Their stares morphed into the disturbed expression Eddie still wore as Richie frantically glanced between them. The child was only a few mere feet away from his older counterpart now, even if he didn’t seem to notice his presence. 

“...Please,” Richie whimpered as anguish struck his chest, “Don’t do this…”

 _Look what would happen,_ The same voice warned, _If they knew your secret._

Richie watched on as the Losers took another step closer, closing his younger self in with Eddie. A pained groan escaped Eddie’s mouth as his body fell limp against the rocks beneath him. The sobbing boy beside him screamed as Eddie’s breath grew shallow, his chest barely rising before the hand that once clutched his wound now slid off his chest and fell limply at his side. 

”Eds?” Richie gasped, his voice raspy between his cries, “Eddie!” 

Eddie’s chest fell once more, and didn’t rise again. 

His eyes were still open. 

“EDDIE!” Richie screamed from beside Eddie’s lifeless body, trembling so violently that his older self could visibly see it from where he stood, “EDDIE!” 

“Hey,” Richie said, trying to take a step towards the sobbing child before him. When he tried to move, however, someone held him in place. He pulled at his invisible restraints to no avail. Panic quickly set in as the Losers around them took another step closer, the nails on the hands growing and splitting to form sharpened claws. “Richie, look at me!” 

The clown wailed with laughter as the children around them took their final steps forward. They stood as one, shoulder-to-shoulder, their expressions void when they raised a splayed hand to swipe upon Richie from above. To cut him out forever and leave him to die and wilt alone. 

_”Richie, look at me!”_

It wasn’t until now did Richie realize it wasn’t his voice saying those words. The sound came from further away, far outside the cavern in his mind. Straining his senses, Richie followed the sound and let it pull him out of the sewers just before the children threw their killing blows. He could feel himself growing lighter with every second, the voice beyond his sight giving him the will to push forward. 

With a gasp, Richie’s eyes shot open. 

His entire body trembled as he took a moment to compose himself and remember where he was. Hospital, Eddie’s room, alone. With a sharp inhale, Richie forced his gaze back towards the glass panel of the door, seeking some unknown guidance. Ben couldn’t help him this time. Richie never indulged his dirty secret to anyone, not until just minutes ago. But when he looked, Ben was gone. Richie barely caught his last moment in the window, a flash of his shoulder barely visible and with someone else’s hand resting atop it. 

Stanley. 

Richie watched as Stanley’s stare flicked from one side of the room to the other, taking in the scene before finally gazing upon his friend. Even after locking eyes, Stanley made no move to enter the room. Richie could hear other voices from afar, vague but sharp whispers that demanded they be let in. But Stanley waved them off with a hand, his gaze never once leaving Richie’s. With a shudder, memories of their silent exchange came flooding back into his mind. 

_Did you know, Stan?_

_Yes, I was fairly certain._

Stanley knew. 

Hell, he might’ve known longer than Richie knew himself. 

But in that short, wordless exchange, Richie had missed such a crucial point. Stanley _knew_ Richie’s darkest, most well-kept secret before Richie ever told him. And yet, despite what the voice in Richie’s head whispered to him, Stanley never treated him any differently because of it. 

_As far as you know_ , The voice in his head countered, planting a new seed that took hold of Richie’s mind so effortlessly. _You don’t know what they say about you behind your back._

Richie flinched at the harshness in the clown’s tone as flashes of Beverly and Stanley’s voices echoed through his mind. He remembered how they spoke so quietly in the Clubhouse that day, and how fearful their voices were when they spoke about what Beverly saw in the girl’s bathroom at school. 

_Richie Tozier sucks flamer cock._

But Richie never heard what they said. It could’ve been anything. For all he knew, they could’ve been agreeing with what was written on the stall. Hell, they could’ve been the ones who’d written it. Tears burned at the edges of Richie’s eyes, forcing him to open them. And when he did, he was met with the same intensifying stare from Stanley through the window. 

No, no. 

They didn’t write it. 

They were his friends, they wouldn’t do that.

Why the fuck would he even think that? What the fuck was wrong with him?

Movement below Stanley’s face caught Richie’s attention moments before he was met with an open hand on the glass. Stanley stared through his spread out fingers, catching Richie’s eyes before he slowly shook his head back and forth. Even from a distance, Richie could make out the exact words the man was trying to convey. 

_I don’t know what you’re putting yourself through, Richie, but I know it’s not good. Stop beating yourself up, dipshit._

Richie stared back in silence for a very long time, lips quivering as his mouth fell open. Fresh, hot tears spilled down his cheeks and dripped onto the tile floor. He knew Stanley’s gaze was genuine. The clarity Ben’s support had given him allowed him to be absolutely sure of it. 

There was no doubt, not this time. 

_Will this change anything between us?_

_Of course not, Tozier._

A newfound anger tore through Richie’s head, making his gasp in pain as the clown shrieked with fury. _You don’t know this man, Richie. You haven’t seen him in over twenty years, you don’t know what he’s truly hiding behind those eyes._

 _Yes, I do,_ Richie retorted as his eyes met Stanley’s once again. All those years of separation didn’t hinder them by any means, not by a long shot. If anything, the distance had made them grow stronger, fonder, and more aware. It’d given them strength in knowing that not even a memory-wiping demon space clown could come between a friendship as solidified as theirs. 

Losers stick together, after all. 

_Stan has nothing to hide..._ Richie snapped, a growing force behind his internal voice that suddenly fostered a new dominion over the entity ravaging his head. Adrenaline flowed through his body at the sensation and empowered him to lay waste to the web It entangled him in. _...and neither do I._

Not anymore. 

_Will this change anything between us?_

_Of course not, Tozier._

The words played again and again in his mind despite having never been spoken aloud, their meaning providing the strength Richie so desperately needed to snap the threads of web that gripped him so intricately. 

Richie could see Stanley’s face. 

And Ben’s face, along with all of the other Loser’s. 

He could see the scene of his outburst flashing quickly in his mind, the expressions of the others so vivid despite the blurred picture from the many tears he’d cried. There was no disgust, no repulsion. All Richie could see was a mix of sadness and horror. Horror he originally thought was directed at him for what he revealed. 

But now, as Richie caught his reflection in the window once more while another wave of clarity graced his tired body, he knew the terror he’d witnessed was because of him. The clown had possessed his conscious mind, its own anger and hatred spilling out of Richie’s mouth like he was nothing but a worthless puppet for its games. It’d turned Richie into a monster, completely consuming the person he once was. 

And that’s all the other Losers could see. 

Richie remembered the way Ben stared at him so fiercely through the window, focused only on grounding Richie to help with his oncoming panic. It was the same expression Stanley used now, his face stoic and his eyes unblinking. And yet, despite the apparent lack of emotion, that look held more words than could ever be said aloud. There was no judgement. No fear, no hatred, no disgust. 

Only an expression of both unbreakable passion and palpable concern. 

After everything Richie yelled at them, and after all that pent up anger he’d mercilessly taken out on them, there was no sign in their eyes that their affection for him had faded. Not even after Richie told them his dirty little secret. 

It was all a lie. 

All those words. All those _years_. Nothing more than a false notion the clown had planted in attempt to gain unwavering authority over Richie. And fuck, did it _work_. It worked so damn well that it made Richie nauseous to conceive the idea. 

It was all just one big fucking lie. 

The clown’s voice screamed, its sound taking the voice of Gretta as its words boomed like claps of thunder in Richie’s head. _RICHIE TOZIER SUCKS FLAMER COCK!_

None of this was Richie’s fault. 

It was a near-perfect imitation of Bowers that spoke to Richie now, his voice full of the same contempt from when they were children. _GET THE FUCK OUT OF HERE, FAGGOT!_

It was the clown’s fault.

Eddie’s youthful voice came next, the fear and rage in his tone threatening to send Richie over the edge. But Richie knew better now. He knew it wasn’t the real Eddie. _YOU’RE ONE OF THEM! DO NOT FUCKING TOUCH ME!_

The clown was dead now. 

_YOU ARE NOTHING WITHOUT ME!_ The voice shrieked in terror as it frantically clawed its way around Richie’s head in a desperate attempt to find the fear it craved. 

It can’t come back.

_YOU’LL DIE JUST AS YOU LIVED, ALONE AND FORGOTTEN!_

It won’t come back. 

_YOU’RE PATHETIC AND A LIAR. HOW DO YOU LIVE WITH YOURSELF?!_

The final phrase hit Richie like a truck, sending him spiraling back into the memories he longed to repress forever. 

He could feel the chill in the air of his empty apartment, the only light in the bedroom coming from the full moon streaking in between the partially-closed blinds. Sitting cross-legged on the edge of his bed, Richie stared at the small bottle of pills he’d purchased that day at the pharmacy with the intent on downing the entire thing when he arrived home. 

There was just enough light to make out the shape of the container that sat on his dresser so calmly. It beckoned Richie towards it, whispering sweet promises of a happiness he’d never found in his lonely and meaningless life. He’d come close, sometimes, and even go as far as grasping the bottle in his hands and popping the cap. And in those moments, deep down inside him, he was convinced that his death would be the punchline to the only funny joke he ever made: His life. 

What did it matter? It seemed like there would be nobody there to survive him, and nobody there to miss him once he was gone. At the time, it truly seemed like the world would be better off without him. But something inside him also took control when the pills touched his hand and made him put the bottle down. It was something Richie didn’t understand, something he couldn’t see. 

Not until he got that call from Mike and returned to Derry. 

Richie always had a family, ever since his youth, and it was the damn clown’s fault that he’d forgotten them. It was the _clown’s_ fault he’d lived his life so alone, separated from the people that he knew would love him unconditionally...secrets or no secrets. But even after the hardships they’d faced, their bonds were stronger than even the sickest, darkest forms of hate. 

And now that Richie understood that, there was nothing standing between himself and the clown. 

No hesitation. 

No fear. 

In one last-ditch effort, the clown screeched an ear-splitting cry as it fished the same nightmarish scene Richie faced just minutes ago back into light. Before he could react, Richie found himself tumbling back into the cavern. He landed with a harsh thud on the rock floor as he quickly made to survey the environment surrounding him. Richie stood just a few feet behind his younger self, who knelt on the ground and sobbed over the lifeless body of his best friend. 

Beyond them stood the other Losers, poised and ready to strike. Except now, Richie was certain that the children that stood before him weren’t his friends, but the vengeful entity in a feeble disguise. But what they didn’t know was that Richie was prepared this time. He was ready for their inevitable onslaught. “HEY!” Richie shouted, causing all heads to turn to him. “Get the _fuck_ away from him!”

In an instant, the five children vanished from sight, their figures dissipating to nothing but dust as Richie approached the remaining pair. Richie’s heart twisted as the cries of his younger self struck his ears. They were filled with such pain...such inexplicable sorrow. Kneeling down beside the boy, Richie reached up and placed his hand on his shoulder. Upon contact, the world around them shifted and warped, transporting them to the interior of the old Clubhouse. The child jumped, whipping his head around to stare at Richie with widened, terrified eyes. 

“Hey, buddy,” Richie said, startling the boy, “It’s okay, he’s not really dead.” 

The younger boy sniffed and jumped once again as the figure of Eddie’s body slowly faded to join the others in oblivion. He gasped, reaching out to grab for his friend, only to have the specs of dust slip through his fingers like air. Turning his gaze back to Richie, he frowned. “What the fuck do you mean he’s not dead?” 

Richie could help but smile at the colorful language despite the tears that fell from his eyes in a silent but steady stream. “I know he’s not dead because I helped save him. He’s in a hospital, and they’re taking good care of him.” 

The boy eyed Richie for a moment, studying his features more closely than before. His expression faltered for the briefest moment, flashing his surprise. “Who...who the hell are you?” 

Richie offered another tired smile. “I’m _you_ , Trashmouth.” 

“Really?” The boy asked, eyes widening when Richie responded with a nod. Another frown overcame his face, but this one was far different from the last. The concern that glistened in his eyes was apparent. “...Why do I look so sad?” 

A dry laugh fell from Richie’s mouth. He shook his head and let it fall for a moment, allowing himself to collect his breath before continuing. Reaching an arm out to grasp the boy’s shoulder, Richie admitted, “Cause growing up fucking sucks, man.” 

“Oh,” The child said, his eyes falling as he reached up to adjust his glasses. “What happens when I’m older?” 

“Well,” Richie said, sinking to sit down and gently pulling his younger self with him. They both sat cross-legged, Richie on a wooden box and his younger counterpart atop the old hammock, facing one another in the otherwise empty room. “You become a famous stand-up comedian, you go on a bunch of tours, and perform for a bunch of people on huge stages.” 

“Really?!” The boy gasped excitedly, giddy in his seat. But as quickly as it appeared, his smile vanished upon seeing the saddened expression on his older self’s face. “Wait...what sucks about that? Isn’t it what you-...or, _we_ wanted?” 

“No, yeah, it’s fine,” Richie answered plainly, eyes unfocusing as he stared off towards something beyond his younger self. 

“Then what sucks about growing up?” The child asked with a cock of his head. 

“In 27 years, you’ll come back to fight the clown again, but you won’t realize the clown made you forget all about Derry while you were gone until Mike calls you to come back home,” Richie replied honestly, holding no desire to restrain himself now. He needed to hear this for himself, too. 

The boy flinched back a bit in shock. “Forget? Forget everything? Even the Losers Club? Even...even Eddie?” 

“Yeah,” Richie nodded as a wave of anguish coursed through his chest. “But don’t worry, you’ll start to remember everything again once you get there. The good, the bad, and everything in between. And that’s when you’ll realize it.” 

“Realize what?” The child asked, adjusting his glasses once more. 

Reaching out to grasp the boy’s shoulder, Richie pulled them out of the Clubhouse and to a new location once again. When they landed, Richie led the boy over to the familiar covered bridge with his hand still guiding him on his shoulder. He could feel the boy tense as he realized where they were, but he said nothing until they reached the spot where he’d started it all. 

R + E. 

Fuck it. 

He had nothing to lose. 

Richie sighed. “That’s when you’ll realize that even after all those years apart, even after forgetting all those memories from Derry...somehow, deep down, you still love him.” 

His younger self jumped like he’d just been burned before staring up at Richie with a terrified expression. A new panic overwhelmed him as his hands began to tremble in tight fists against his chest, his face turning red. “No, it’s not like that….I don’t….I….I’m not….I don’t-” 

Richie’s heart nearly broke at the sight. 

“Hey, hey, hey,” He breathed calmly, kneeling down so he could be eye-level with his young counterpart. “It’s okay to feel that way.” 

The boy looked upon him with a fear so great Richie thought he was about to pass out. “N-no, no it’s not. We’re both boys-” 

“No, buddy,” Richie whispered, not bothering to wipe away the fresh streams of tears that tore down his face. “There’s nothing wrong with how you feel about him. All you needed was for someone who loves you to come and tell you that. I’m...so sorry it took so long.” 

The child stared back at his older counterpart for a long time, studying every fraction of his eyes. “You…” He started, unsure of how to continue at first, “...you still like Eddie?” 

Richie smiled, his expression full of unwavering admiration and truth. “I love him more than anything in this world.” 

His younger self stared back in awe, only to have the expression wiped from his face as a new-found fright stepped into its place. “But...what about Bowers? What he called us? What everyone else in this stupid town says about us?” 

Pity flashed across Richie’s face as he reached over to brush away the tears that fell from the boy’s eyes. “Fuck Bowers,” He spat with a finger pointed directly at the younger boy before him, “Fuck what the clown said, fuck everyone else who said those things. The rest of the world, it isn’t like a lot of the people in Derry. It’s certainly not perfect, not by any means...but there are people out there who will love you for exactly who you are.” 

The boy began to cry again, but a new look of hope gleamed in his watering eyes as he stared up at Richie with wonder. “My friends?” 

“Yes, of course,” Richie said with a firm and strong voice, a rush of excitement flowing through him as he spoke that single, powerful word aloud. He recalled Stanley’s expression through the glass window of the door, the determination and lack of judgement apparent on his face. A look of nothing less than full support. “Losers stick together, don’t they?” 

His young counterpart smiled, sending a calming pulse of reassurance through Richie that provided him with a new and unfamiliar sense of ease. 

“Hey Trashmouth?” Richie asked, placing a finger under the boy’s chin and angling it upwards. 

“Yeah?” The child asked, perking up upon hearing his old nickname. 

“Can you promise something for me?” Richie asked, heart picking up pace in his chest as he mustered the courage to ask the favor. 

The boy nodded, curiosity peaking as he leaned in a bit closer towards Richie. 

“I want you to remember something,” Richie started, throat closing up a bit as he spoke the words he so desperately wished to hear all those years in self-inflicted isolation because of what the clown had done to him. “Even if you feel so completely alone, know that there will always be people out there who will love you, and people who will be there for you when you need help. Never be afraid to ask for it, okay?” 

His younger self nodded, face growing solemn as he watched his older counterpart’s face break. They sat in silence as the older man sobbed, his head falling forward as to hide his face from the kid. Richie jumped when he felt a pair of small arms wrapping around his shoulders and pulling him in tight. 

“It’s okay, Richie,” The younger boy whispered into the man’s ear as he squeezed him even tighter, “I promise.” 

Pulling back, Richie brought himself to give the kid a quick succession of nods before pausing to collect himself. “Sorry, kiddo,” Richie laughed as he reached up to finally wipe his tears away. 

The young child smiled back at him, eyes glistening as he spoke three simple words that would change Richie’s life by drastic means. “I love you.” 

_All you needed was for someone who loves you to come and tell you that._

Richie blinked in surprise as something twisted in his stomach. He could see flashes of his darkest hours in the outskirts of his mind, his desperation to find an escape from such an unforgiving life. He could see the bottle of pills in his hand, hear the sound of the tablets sliding back and forth inside the container. But then his younger counterpart materialized before him, carefully taking the bottle from his hands and placing it back on the dresser. “It’s okay if you only save one person in your life,” The boy said, suddenly sounding decades older than he appeared, “And it’s okay if it’s yourself.” 

“I…” Richie said as he was pulled back to the covered bridge, his younger self’s hands still planted firmly on his shoulders. He exhaled deeply, pushing away the evil, the terror, the lies he’d been fed almost all his life. He was never truly alone. Not while his friends were still with him, whether that be in person or across far distances. “I love you too, buddy.” 

Reaching up, Richie took the child’s hand in his own before turning to face the railing beside them. The man beamed as he guided his younger counterpart’s hand atop the refurbished carving, a permanent etch that would forever solidify their love for their best friend. It felt like sucking in a deep lung-full of air after holding his breath underwater. The brisk clarity of the world unfolded before Richie’s eyes. 

And it was so fucking beautiful. 

A beauty unlike any other, one that he’d only seen in starlit dreams of far-off lands that didn’t exist. And yet, here they sat, staring directly at it. 

Acceptance. 

_HOW DO YOU LIVE WITH YOURSELF?!_ The clown’s voice cried out, its volume diminishing despite the rage that tore through Richie’s mind. 

Richie smirked as the dream-like sequence fell apart before his eyes, leaving him on the cold tile floor of Eddie’s hospital room. He glared directly at the entity in his mind, watching its form cower in fear as Richie’s light surrounded it from all sides. It was then that the Losers faces entered his mind, all of them smiling with the kindness Richie knew so well. 

_Because I have something worth living for._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Eight - Sleeping at Last 
> 
> I remember the minute  
> It was like a switch was flipped  
> I was just a kid who grew up strong enough  
> To pick this armor up  
> And suddenly it fit
> 
> God, that was so long ago, long ago, long ago  
> I was little, I was weak, perfectly naive  
> And I grew up too quick
> 
> Now you won't see all that I have to lose  
> And all I've lost in the fight to protect it  
> I won't let you in, I swore never again  
> I can't afford, no, I refuse to be rejected
> 
> I want to break these bones 'til they're better  
> I want to break them right and feel alive  
> You were wrong, you were wrong, you were wrong  
> My healing needed more than time
> 
> When I see fragile things, helpless things, broken things  
> I see the familiar  
> I was little, I was weak, I was perfect too  
> Now I'm a broken mirror
> 
> But I can't let you see all that I have to lose  
> All I've lost in the fight to protect it  
> I can't let you in, I swore never again  
> I can't afford to let myself be blindsided
> 
> I'm standing guard, I'm falling apart  
> And all I want is to trust you  
> Show me how to lay my sword down  
> For long enough to let you through
> 
> Here I am, pry me open  
> What do you want to know?  
> I'm just a kid who grew up scared enough  
> To hold the door shut  
> And bury my innocence  
> But here's a map, here's a shovel  
> Here's my Achilles' heel
> 
> I'm all in, palms out, I'm at your mercy now and I'm ready to begin  
> I am strong, I am strong, I am strong enough to let you in
> 
> I'll shake the ground with all my might  
> I will pull my whole heart up to the surface  
> For the innocent, for the vulnerable  
> I'll show up on the front lines with a purpose  
> And I'll give all I have, I'll give my blood, I'll give my sweat  
> An ocean of tears will spill for what is broken  
> I'm shattered porcelain, glued back together again  
> Invincible like I've never been


	25. Sorrow

_HOW DO YOU LIVE WITH YOURSELF?!_

_Because I have something worth living for._

He waited for so damn long, every moment only granting strength to the irrevocable silence that swallowed his entire being. 

It was anguish. 

A torment that prolonged every second into minutes. 

And yet he waited, unable to move as the growing dread in his heart prepared itself for the return of the entity that craved his fears with such an insatiable lust. The inevitable visitation from the being who prized itself in its skill to mold the mind and soul with an impossible finesse no mere human could ever hope to achieve. 

Any moment now, any second, he would feel the sting of its claws as they raked through his mind without mercy. He would cower as it made its presence known, the being enraptured with the terror that still dwelled so soundlessly in his head. To know fear was to hear the flame that raged in its voice. The lethal, sickening sound that relished in the face of his torture. 

So he waited.

Eyes on the shadows beyond his conscious mind’s reach, inspecting the formless borders with despair. He caught no movement, no prowling creatures or hunters of the night. His heartbeat picked up in his chest as he strained his senses to the edge of their capacity, stamina growing thin. 

But no voice ever came. 

The crevice where the entity once found sanctuary was nothing more than a wasted, barren ground that was no longer fertile with burden of his angst. There were no remains left to burn, no tracks to pursue. It was as if the creature vanished in an instant, unable to tear itself free from the grasp of its inescapable doom. 

The clown was gone. 

And Richie was freed. 

A newfound sense of alleviation poured outwards from his chest, spreading to the most distant tendrils of his being. It was like a new life swept through his body, granting him true vision as it rekindled the tattered and broken form of himself that knelt on the cold tile floor. 

Richie remembered the day he’d gotten his first pair of glasses. 

He was so young, the very first in his class to ever need them. At such an age, he didn’t even fully comprehend why he needed the strange contraption on his face when nobody else did. But then his mother handed him small fabric pouch containing a pair of frames fit for a small child. Richie took them in hand and slid its arms back behind his ears and opened his eyes. 

Clarity. 

It was like he’d stepped on an ethereal plane, the world before him certainly not the same place he’d spent his life in. 

The trees, they had leaves. 

The trees had leaves and they weren’t the same bulking, green globs that sat atop blurred wooden arms. Their edges were sharp and so well-defined, surely sliced with only the finest of blades. Nothing else could explain their effortless dexterity as they cut through the wind so fluidly. Veins were so intricately tattooed on their skin, branching out into bold streaks of lightning that stretched to the edges of its body. No pair was exactly the same. 

And it was so beautiful. 

He’d lived his whole life without knowing such elegance existed, but in a matter of seconds, that entirely changed. All because Richie decided to put on a pair of glasses that he didn’t even know he needed. Richie lifted himself from the floor, the action near-effortless as he rose from the ruin of the entity’s wrath. 

In all his life, he’d never felt so light, so weightless. 

So free.

His thoughts remained his own, untampered and unmolded by any being other than himself. The unfamiliar quiet of his mind was nothing less than serene, and there were no words to describe how it felt to set free from the invisible restraints that Richie never knew bound him.

The voice was gone, replaced by an endless void darker than midnight. 

And for the first time in his life, Richie felt enduringly aware. 

Unconditionally lucid. 

The banishing of the creature that fed off the fears of his heart gifted Richie with a sense of clarity he’d never even hoped to obtain. It didn’t feel real, how certain and assertive his thoughts had become in a matter of a few short minutes. Just as he had in his youth, he finally experienced what it was like to have a sight so surreal. Richie’s eyes fell upon Eddie’s unconscious face as he strode over to the of the bed with urgency. He stared at the man whom he loved, overcome with tears as he was struck with an unknown sensation that he’d never had the privilege of experiencing. 

_Eddie._

For the first time in his life, Richie felt awake. 

_Oh, Eddie._

And for the first time in his life, he stared down at the man whom he loved without fear. 

_Eddie, my love._

Richie lowered himself into the chair beside the bed as he extended his hands and clasped Eddie’s in his own. He smiled, truly _smiled_ , body shaking with the waves of elation that rippled through his heart and down his arms and legs. The emotion that rushed through him was more intense than any he’d ever felt, as if the being that lurked in his mind had cut him off from such a gift. 

But it was so overwhelming. 

It was too much. 

All of this started when the clown cornered Richie on that fated day in the arcade. The day when Bowers unleashed the caged demons in his head that even Richie hadn’t come to fully understand. But unknowingly to him, the clown had planted a seed that day. 

A seed that would latch onto the forbidding darkness of his mind and lay waste to anything that crossed its path. It grew there in secret, festering and expanding across all surfaces of his head. Over time, however, after so many years of torment, the invasive weeds finally took one step too close to the excruciating greed that tempted it so keenly. The void in Richie’s mind had stretched to such vast lengths over the years, forced to grow in order to house the entity as it kindled its strength. But now, that space lay empty, begging to be occupied. 

So Richie’s mind did the only thing it knew how to do. 

It filled the void. 

_Ignorance was bliss._

Richie had off-handedly used the phrase more times than he could count, never putting much thought to the meaning behind the words. Not until the love of his life laid before him, still fighting within an inch of his life in the fray that tore through his body like a hurricane. 

It was both a blessing and a curse. 

A broken sigh escaped Richie’s mouth as he saw Eddie’s smiling face appear in his conscious mind. Then Stanley’s, followed shortly by Beverly’s, then Ben’s, Bill’s, and Mike’s. They all looked upon him with an identical admiring expression, the shimmering gleam in their eyes displaying nothing less than the endless love and support Richie knew they had. 

How the fuck had he been so foolish? 

How the _fuck_ could he not see that before? 

Richie met their gaze and he felt no fear, no judgement, no disgust. He could only feel their deep sentiment, and their desire to prove to him that nothing would ever change that. It should have terrified him, the utter horror that struck his heart as the terror of his burdens came crashing down on him with a powerful force. 

Maybe it did, a bit.

With his lucidity and precise understanding, Richie could finally see his life for what it truly was. 

A fucking lie. 

The clown had always been there, gradually becoming a part of him as he became a part of it. Its dominion over him only grew over the many years of social isolation and fear of human connection. Every whisper, every taunt, every laugh, every accusation. Every word that left that damn clown’s mouth shattered another piece of Richie’s mind until nothing salvageable remained. It wrecked him from the inside-out, unbeknown to him as he carried on with his life and wallowed in despair over his miserable fortune. But It’s efforts were so subtle, so gradual, that Richie had completely missed it. 

With every day that passed, his judgement slowly clouded over until a permanent, dense layer of fog concealed it completely. And once Richie’s control of that was gone, the entity migrated towards his sight. Everything the clown had said to him altered his perception not only of the world around him, but his friends as well, and eventually himself. By that point, Richie no longer knew who he was, or what he stood for. He didn’t know what defined him. 

It wasn’t until this moment did he see that it was the clown that’d been shaping his mind, interweaving his thoughts so intricately that he’d grown into the person he feared becoming more than anything else. It made him feel so cut off, insignificant, worthless, unwanted...unloved. 

By the time he’d returned to Derry, the clown had Richie’s bounds wrapped so tightly around its claws that it worked him like a puppet. It would climb into his skin, tearing tissue and snapping bones, allowing Richie’s body to encompass its own being as it strode to wreak havoc on the world in front of him. As it worked to drive Richie to a madness would never return from, to drive him to the end of the line by his own hand. Richie could see the Loser’s faces flash once again in his mind. Only this time, their faces held no smiles or laughter. They stared at him with the rawest form of fear, in horror of the monster that stood shrieking before them. 

They stared at Richie. 

Only now did Richie know that it wasn’t because of his secret. It was because of what the entity had shaped him into, and what it had unleashed inside him that turned him so dark. Failing to hold back the choked sobs that now slipped from his mouth, Richie raised a fist to his mouth in an attempt to stifle the noise. The Losers loved him, they always had. And nothing would ever change that.

So how the hell did he not see that sooner?

Agony ripped through Richie’s heart as the answer played out in his head. 

Richie never would’ve doubted the love of his friends if it wasn’t for that miniscule, potent seed that the clown had planted in his mind all those years ago. If he’d caught it sooner, before it could spread and overtake his subconscious thoughts, he could’ve put a stop to it all. 

But he didn’t. 

And failing to do so allowed him to unknowingly succumb to clown’s endeavors of ensnaring him into its tempting yet lethal web. The entity’s tight grasp trapped him for so long, forcing him to watch as his life wasted away by the minute. It was with a heavy heart that Richie came to accept that he would never be able to get back all the time he lost. 

He could never go back to his childhood. 

He would never be able to sincerely tell his younger self to be true to who he was, and to embrace the part of him he kept buried for so fucking long. To tell himself that it was okay, that nothing was wrong with him. To make sure that his younger self knew how important it was to cherish the love he shared with his friends, and to always remember that he was never, ever alone in this world. Exhaling heavily, Richie’s recognition allowed him to see the reality that had been shrouded by the dissipating fog that still loomed inside his head. 

He could have been so much _more_. 

He could have been _happy_. 

Riche may have finally rid his mind of that ruthless fucking clown, but its absence was by no means the end of its torment. Not while he could clearly see the life he could have led. 

Ignorance was bliss?

Fucking bullshit. 

He was ignorant of the clown’s presence while it tampered with his mind, and he was ignorant of the lies he’d been fed for so long. And now, here he sat, completely aware of the hardships the entity forced him to face...unable to perceive the life he could have lived without facing the anguish he’d come to know so well, greeting it like an old friend. 

“...I thought-” Richie choked, voice cracking as he let himself sink into the intense agony that swept over him like a crashing ocean wave. He thought back to when they stood outside the house on Neibolt, side-by-side, ready to face the clown that’d tormented them for so long. To finally put an end to It’s reign and free themselves from It’s wrath. To live the rest of their lives in happiness, together. “I thought this was our chance, Eds. We could’ve made up for all the time we lost.” 

But he could never go back to mend what was broken, the clown made sure of that. 

“If it wasn’t for that _fucking clown!_ ” Richie shot up from his seat, the force of his movement sending the chair flying back until it collided with the wall in a series of loud thuds. “You fucking piece of _shit!_ ” He screeched at nothing, his hot tears burning streaks down his face, “You stupid fucking _clown!_ ” 

Richie spotted movement in the window of the door once again, but restrained himself from looking to see who’d moved back into view. He didn’t think he could stand to see any of their faces right now, not while he was so lost in his grief. 

“I guess you got the last laugh, asshole, cause you ruined my entire goddamn _life!_ ” Richie snapped, voice trembling with fury as he wept. “You made me forget them all, you made me spend almost thirty years _alone!_ ” 

A knock at the door could be heard. 

Richie ignored it. 

“You tried to take away Stan,” Richie all but snarled through his tears, his voice turning sinister. “You nearly killed Eddie. You tried to take away one of my best friends and the love of my stupid, meaningless life!” 

Another knock. 

Richie ignored it, turning to face the window and the darkening sky beyond. His hand ghosted over the table beside him, instinctively grabbing whatever he could reach and chucking it across the room. “I HATE YOU!” 

Another knock. 

“I FUCKING HATE YOU!” 

Another throw. 

“STUPID PIECE OF SHIT!” 

Richie kicked the bottom drawers of the table before him, pain shooting up his foot as he did. 

“FUCK YOU, FUCK YOU, FUCK YOU!” 

Another kick. Then another. And another. 

_”Richie STOP!”_ A voice called as the door swung open and slammed against the wall with an even louder bang. 

Richie ignored the call, and instead drove his fist into the nearest object he could spot. 

“FUCK!” The sound of shattering glass instantly filled the room, soon followed by the sound of water splashing onto the tile floor. A stinging pain coursed through Richie’s hand and wrist before a wave of warmth flooded the area. He hissed, clutching the injured hand and pulling it into his chest. “I’m, uh,” He breathed, the burning sensation finally grounded him back to reality, “I’m sorry, Eddie...for everything.”

“Dammit, Richie!” A voice called, followed by a quick succession of others. 

“Rich, you’re bleeding…”

“Someone call a nurse!” 

“Richie, what the hell were you thinking?!” 

“Let me see…” 

Richie flinched when he felt someone’s hand pulling on his wrist as another burst of flames shot up his wrist and arm. “Watch it!” He snapped, yanking his injured wrist back tightly against his chest. Blood soaked his shirt and dripped down onto the floor, staining them bright red. “That fucking _hurts!_ ” 

Within seconds, the sound of a new commotion echoed through the room. More footsteps and voices could be heard behind him, and Richie slowly glanced over his shoulder to find Joey staring back at him with horrified eyes, two nurses flanking her on either side. Reaching out, Joey snatched Richie’s elbow and extended his arm forward, surveying the wound with a nervous glance. Richie let her. 

“We need to get these shards out,” She said in a sharp voice, eyes darting back up to meet Richie’s, “And you’ll need a few stitches. Come on, let’s get you cleaned up...” 

One of the nurses outstretched a hand and gently ghosted it over the elbow of Richie’s uninjured arm. They guided him towards the door with a swift pace as they draped a towel over the bleeding wound. 

“Visiting hours are almost over, but,” Joey started, hesitation in her voice as she lowered her volume to a hushed tone, “You can stay here while we take care of him.”

“Thank you,” A quiet voice said. 

“I’ll go with him,” Another voice added from behind Richie, “We’ll come back here when they’re finished.” 

Richie threw a quick glance over his shoulder to find that the owner of the footsteps that pursued him down the hall belonged to Stanley. He quickly averted his gaze, however, as the personnel guided them past the nurse’s station for supplies and an open exam room. Agony still coursed through his blood, giving him another shock of pain every time he laid eyes on the other Losers. 

Once situated, Richie let the two nurses get to work on the fresh scrapes and slices that marred his arm. The pair silently washed the wound as best they could, preparing the site for proper extraction of the glass shards embedded in Richie’s skin. He cursed loudly when they pulled the largest piece out, the size of it similar to that of a golf ball. 

With every flinch and jerk of Richie’s hand upon another glass shard being extracted, Stanley silently leaned in closer towards Richie. He sat beside his friend on the examination table, his eyes planted on Richie’s face as it scrunched in pain with the steady and fluid movement of the nurses’ trained hands. It wasn’t until a particularly painful tug at a shard did Richie nearly scream, its jagged edges scraping against his exposed tissue as it slowly tore out from inside his arm. Dark red blood instantly poured out from the wound, dripping onto Richie’s pants and the floor below. 

“Hey, it’s alright, Rich,” Stanley said softly as he placed a hand on the shoulder of Richie’s uninjured arm. He visibly relaxed when Richie didn’t flinch away from his touch. “You’re almost done.” 

With a shuddering exhale, Richie nodded in reply before gritting his teeth as he braced himself for the next shard extraction. 

Another thirty minutes passed in silence as the nurses cleared Richie’s wound of any remaining debris. They washed the entire area, a large pile of bloodied wipes and gauze accumulating on the counter behind them as they worked. The gashes weren’t as bad as they originally seemed once the bleeding had gone down, so Richie only needed a few dissolvable stitches to seal them shut. His zip-up, however, was toast. Well, Eddie’s zip-up, technically. Almost the entire front of the shirt was soaked with blood, so Richie had no choice but to toss it. The plain t-shirt he wore underneath only had a few drops soak through, and he deemed it acceptable enough until they returned to the hotel for the night. The same went for his pants, too. 

Within minutes, his wrist was fully sutured and wrapped in a thick bandage almost identical to the two Stanley currently wore on both arms. Richie huffed an amused breath through his nose as he held up his arm next to Stanley’s. “We match now,” He muttered under his breath as a tired but calm sigh fell from his mouth. 

Stanley rolled his eyes at the comment, but couldn’t stop the small, relieved smirk that’d appeared on his face when he picked up on the growing composure in Richie’s voice. “Who would’ve thought,” Stanley noted, nudging Richie with his elbow as he held up his other arm to display his second bandage, “You’re _almost_ as dysfunctional as me.” 

Richie chuckled weakly before finally bringing his eyes up to meet Stanley’s. It was the first time he’d done so since his breakdown in Eddie’s room, when Richie was fighting the entity in his mind from where he knelt on the cold tile floor. Richie’s smile fell, expression turning more serious than Stanley had probably ever seen it. The pair barely even noticed the nurses vacating the room to gather some additional supplies. 

A short but heavy silence fell between them once they were alone. 

“Rich,” Stanley breathed quietly, his expression going slack. Voice steady, he carefully pressed Richie for answers, while also taking great caution not to upset him again. “What the hell was that in there?” 

Richie’s eyes fell shut at the words. He could still feel the rage that swept through his core as his thoughts were pulled back to the events in Eddie’s room, sending out waves of anger in steady pulses. But as quickly as the feeling emerged, it vanished like a snuffed flame of a candle. 

Richie was tired. 

He was so fucking tired. 

“What?” Richie asked, cocking an eyebrow as he did his best to shift his expression into something lighter. He smirked, knowing Stanley saw right through it from the glare that formed on the man’s face. “Never seen someone have a mental breakdown before?” 

“Seriously, Richie?” Stanley asked firmly as he ran a hand through his hair in frustration, “Beep beep.” 

Richie exhaled, knowing defeat when he saw it. “...I just scared myself, I guess.” 

Stanley perked up at the sudden shift in Richie’s tone to something more serious. He worriedly leaned closer and looked his friend directly in the eyes, speaking with gentle voice that was softer than a whisper. “What were you scared of?” 

Memories came flooding back into Richie’s from the once-empty void in his mind, overwhelming him with the intensity of his far too-recent break. He could feel his body tense as he answered, “The things I can’t change.” 

When met with silence, Richie turned to find Stanley staring at him expectantly, gesturing for him to elaborate. 

“The things I can’t change about _myself_...like how I...how I feel...” Richie confessed, eyes glistening as his gaze sank to the blood-splattered tile floor. He chose to omit the invasive voice from his head and how it controlled his every thought for so many years, the grief still too near. “...about _Eddie_.” 

Tears welled in Richie’s eyes, burning as they slipped past his cracked glasses in uneven streams. Shame burned on his face and made itself known in his reddening cheeks. It was no longer the guilt the clown inflicted upon him that appeared in his expression, but the shame Richie felt for not telling his friends sooner. For keeping such an important part of himself locked away for so damn long. 

“Richie,” Stanley ordered as he stood to face Richie directly, taking extra care not to step in the small pools of blood scattered across the floor. He placed a hand on either of Richie’s shoulders and squeezed them tightly. “Look at me.” 

A rush of nervousness rippled through Richie’s form as he forced his gaze upon Stanley’s. He felt like his younger counterpart in their dream-like encounter, terrified as he waited to hear what the other had to say. There was nothing behind Richie’s face but the expression of a scared, traumatized child. 

And Stanley saw it almost instantly. 

“Why would you want to change how you feel?” He asked, receiving no reply. “Is it because he’s your best friend, or that he’s married? Or is it because he...he’s a man?” Stanley pressed with an anxious face, caught in a desperate search for answers in Richie’s eyes. He found it almost instantly when Richie flinched at the very last word he spoke. 

Stanley exhaled slowly, angling his head as a flash of pity crossed his face. Richie tried to avert his gaze, but failed when Stanley adjusted his stance so that he stood directly across from him once again. It grew increasingly difficult with every passing second, but Richie did well upholding his facade right up until the moment Stanley pressed a finger under his chin and lifted his head so he could see his face. Then, for the shortest fraction of a moment, his facade slipped. But it was more than enough time for Stanley to catch what Richie honestly felt beneath his stoic demeanor. A blinding fear of rejection, hatred, and disgust. A look that Stanley had seen many times before, only now understanding the drive behind it after all this time. 

“You were afraid,” Stanley deducted, watching Richie’s reactions closely, “Of what we’d think...of what _he’d_ think. That we wouldn’t...” 

Richie nodded wordlessly. 

Stanley pulled Richie’s chin up once again when the man tried to let it sink, shooting him a warning glance for if he’d try doing it again. He didn’t bother masking the worry in his voice when he spoke again. “You know we’d never think of you differently because of that, don’t you Rich?” 

He looked like he wanted to say more, but refrained and held his tongue. 

“I...yes,” Richie admitted, fragility in his voice. “But you don’t know what it was like for someone like me to grow up in a shithole town like Derry.” 

“You’re right, Richie, I don’t,” Stanley agreed in a disheartening tone, “I’m...so sorry you had to go through that. Bowers was an ignorant piece of-” 

“It wasn’t just him,” Richie stammered faintly. 

Stanley frowned. “Who-”

“That stupid motherfucking clown,” Richie spat, his composure breaking once again as a choked sob escaped his mouth, “Stan...the things he said to me when we were just kids...after I left Derry and forgot all of you, they stuck with me. They never went away, even when I forgot that It ever existed. He told me that _nobody_ could know my secret, or...or they’d-” 

Stanley blinked, a single tear slipping from the corner of his eye as he pulled Richie’s hunched form against his chest. He remained silent for a long time, his eyes dazing out as he appeared to be piecing something together in his head. “Clowns,” He breathed, eyes still unfocused as he seemingly stared at the wall beyond Richie, “That summer...when we fought It as kids...you said you were afraid of clowns. That...that wasn’t true, was it?” 

“No, it wasn’t,” Richie painfully answered as he felt Stanley’s body tense against his.

“It was nothing but a lying bastard, Richie, and nothing he ever said to you was true, alright?” Stanley snapped, tightening his embrace and trying his best to keep his composure, “Don’t ever forget that.” 

Richie nodded into Stanley’s shoulder as Ben’s words flowed back into his mind with adept finesse. He squeezed Stanley back as firmly as his injured arm would allow, grounding himself to the sound of his friends’ voices in his head.

_None of this was my fault._

_It was the clown’s fault._

_The clown is dead now._

_It can’t come back._

_It won’t come back._

_Don’t ever forget that._

Richie remained where he was until the nurses re-entered the room, his face still buried in Stanley’s shoulder. The caregivers spoke to Stanley, who eyed them from over his shoulder, quickly running through the list of supplies to take home as well as the daily routines Richie would need to do to ensure his wounds were kept clean. Once alone for the second time, Stanley made to pull away from Richie, only to be stopped as his friend held him tighter. 

“Thanks, Stan,” Richie said, the words muffled by Stanley’s shoulder. His voice was sincere despite his evident exhaustion. “Love you.” 

Pulling back, Richie found Stanley grinning at his words. Stanley stared back at him, and was met with nothing but the highest admirable sincerity, an expression Richie knew the others had seen only a small handful of times in their lives. It wasn’t a simple feat getting Richie to be so open and serious, while barely making any jokes in the process. His smile widening, Stanley reached up and ruffled Richie’s hair with his hand. Revenge from earlier that day. He laughed when Richie squirmed where he sat, flipping him off with his good hand. “Love you too.” 

The pair returned to Eddie’s room within minutes, Richie finally able to reach the sense of ease he’d been longing to achieve. He paused, however, when they’d made it to the final few steps before the doorway. Apprehension flooded his body, a familiar sensation that was so instinctual that Richie hadn’t even realized how normal it felt. Richie shot Stanley a fearful glance, his worry of what his friends would think of his outburst building all the way up his throat. But one reassuring look from Stanley was all he needed to calm his nerves. 

And whenever Richie felt the same fears rise up within him again, all he had to do was play Ben’s and Stan’s words in his mind until they broke away into nothing. The power those phrases held, now that Richie genuinely believed every notion as he repeated them, was unmatched. 

Richie loved Eddie, and that was okay. 

There was nothing wrong with him. 

Despite what the clown said. 

It was wrong about it all. 

And It was dead.

As Richie worked up the courage to approach the doorway, he was met with six tired but relieved faces. He’d barely crossed the threshold before Beverly beckoned him over to where she sat on the futon. Richie obliged, quietly striding over to place himself in the space between Beverly and Bill. His hands trembled slightly as he sat, forcing him to repeat the phrases once again in his mind to calm himself down. Mike and Ben stood back by the counter, arms crossed as they leaned against its edge as they both eyed Richie with concern. Stanley, on the other hand, walked over to join Patty in one of the chairs close to Eddie’s bed. 

Richie exhaled as a new silence fell. 

A new, unfamiliar, yet comfortable silence. 

No more secrets. 

No more lies. 

A few seconds passed before Beverly had one arm wrapped around Richie’s broad shoulders. She carefully guided him towards her, Richie relaxing at the touch and refusing to fight back despite his instinct telling him to do so. He let himself until the side of his head reached Beverly’s shoulder. Mindful of Richie’s injured wrist, Beverly gingerly stroked Richie’s hair with her free hand. 

A steady silence persisted. 

It wasn’t like the ones they had before. This one felt lighter, like the tension had finally been broken and they could feel more at ease. The rhythmic beeping of the monitors surrounding Eddie’s bed felt soothing for once, instead of like a ticking bomb ready to implode at any moment. 

You know what? Fuck it.

Fuck it!

“I thought about telling him, you know, when this was all over,” Richie muttered after some time, staring at the edge of Eddie’s bed. “I wanted to tell him everything.” 

Nobody spoke, in fear of upsetting Richie after he finally seemed to get his shit together. But Richie was so damn tired he couldn’t yell anymore even if he’d wanted to. He spoke with a lulled and slurred voice, as if he were already half-asleep. Caught in that distant world between dream and reality. 

“But then Eddie just had to go be the goddamn hero and save my ass, huh?” Richie huffed, a few silent tears streaking down his face. “As soon as I got him back...after all those years...that _fuckface_ almost took him away from me...again.”

Richie relaxed into Beverly’s embrace as he confessed everything, losing himself in his words. He’d never felt something more freeing than the ability to speak with his friends about such things, without fear of ridicule or retaliation. There were moments, though brief, where he’d forgotten everyone else was in the room with him. The fears he’d felt when the clown infested his mind seemed so irrational now as he finally said those buried words aloud. An anger boiled inside him at the thought, but a quick glance at Stanley helped dampen the swelling rage. 

“Even after all those years apart, even after I’d completely forgotten about Derry,” Richie said, shifting to re-adjust his head on Beverly’s shoulder. “It felt like there was something missing. For years, I never knew what it was. Not until I came back and saw him for the first time. Then, everything...made sense again.” 

Or at least he _thought_ it did. 

Only now, as he laid here so calmly with his friends, his _family_ , did he finally make true sense of his shitty life. 

Richie felt Beverly tense beneath him at those words. He could feel the heat on her skin, suddenly aware of the tension in her hands as she held him close. Even if she’d chosen not to show it, Richie knew she was _pissed_. But when she did finally speak, to Richie’s relieved surprise, there was no hint of harshness in her voice. “...Rich?”

“Hm?” Richie hummed, his voice slightly muffled from the way he buried his face into Beverly’s shoulder, just as he had with Stanley just minutes prior. 

“Richie we love you _so much_ ,” Beverly whispered, tenderly brushing the hair from Richie’s face. “And nothing will ever, _ever_ change that. You know that, don’t you sweetheart?” 

_It was nothing but a lying bastard, Richie, and nothing he ever said to you was true, alright?_

_Don’t ever forget that._

A short silence. 

“...Yes,” Richie sniffed, nodding. He shifted, moving to sit back in an upright position, Stanley’s words still ringing with certainty in his head. “I…” Richie said, a look of shame overcoming his face. “I’m sorry for what I said earlier...I was a real dick.” 

Richie finally glanced up when he felt Bill moved beside him on the cushion. The pair locked eyes and, for the first time since the quarry, they shared a newfound look of understanding. Within an instant, the barriers built between them washed away like a river’s current. In that moment, Richie saw the same eyes he’d known from when they were children. 

From before all this pain. 

From before the clown. 

That fucker was dead, and Richie had nothing left to hide. The toll of concealing such a burden for so long undoubtedly wrecked him. And he knew, despite the ease that filled the void in his head, that some parts of him would never fully recover. Not completely. The clown had broken both his mind and soul, leaving no fragment of him unharmed. Just a shattered heart trapped under the weight of this new reality, longing for redemption. 

Reaching forward, Bill pulled Richie into a tight and loving embrace as he tightly wrapped both arms around his friend’s back and rested his head on Richie’s shoulder. “It’s okay, R-r-richie,” Bill said, patting Richie’s back in reassurance. “It’s okay...” 

_It’s okay._

_We love you so much._

_Don’t ever forget it._

The words felt warmer than the sun’s embrace.

Slowly pulling back as the tension left his body, Bill smiled. He squeezed Richie’s shoulders and stared him directly in the eyes. “Th-thank you for telling us, Rich. We’re p-p-proud of you.” 

Richie stared back, his already-glistening eyes dramatically widening in size as he started to beam. A single tear slipped down his cheek as he nodded with blatant relief. It was one thing to accept himself, but an entirely different experience to see the same devout love etched on his best friends’ faces. 

Acceptance. 

The others laughed warmly as Richie yanked Bill into another tight embrace, the pleasing sound sending a rush of relief rippling down Richie’s chest. It suddenly felt like they were all back at the Clubhouse again, laughing at one of his shitty jokes without a single care in the world. Richie only needed one more thing to make this moment truly perfect. 

_Eddie._

Smile falling, Richie shifted his gaze to Eddie, who remained unmoving in his bed. The others caught the shift in his expression and traced his stare to the source. 

_Oh, Eddie._

A new, desperate hope swelled in Richie’s chest, threatening to overflow as he locked his gaze on Eddie. A hope he’d so quickly struck down in the past, and not without good reason. Eddie was on death’s door for so many days, but now that he had a new liver, he finally had a chance to recover. Only time could tell, after his new organ would’ve had enough time to clear the toxins that still poisoned Eddie’s body. 

No, they weren’t certain if Eddie would wake up, but there was a chance. And any chance was better than none. 

_Eddie, my love._

“When we all leave Maine...” Richie murmured, trailing off. His head still laid against Bill’s shoulder, arms outstretched as Beverly clasped his hands tightly in her own. A nervous tone laced his softened voice. “...Do you think we’ll forget again? Like we did last time?”

Uncertainty crossed the group’s faces. 

Ben frowned deeply as he contemplated the idea. “No,” He eventually replied from where he still leaned against the counter, looking up to meet Richie’s eyes. An expression of deep understanding filled his eyes, and Richie felt a tug in his heart at the sight. Richie watched in silence as Ben’s gaze flickered towards Beverly, his eyes lighting up the same way Richie’s always did with Eddie. “I don’t think so.” 

“Yeah,” Mike agreed, his expression softening when Richie shifted his eyes towards him, “Now that It’s gone for good this time.” 

A wave of relief flooded Richie at those words. 

“But even if it d-does start to happen again, we can make sure that we don’t let each other f-f-forget,” Bill said, lightly nudging Richie with his shoulder while glancing down at him. He pulled out his phone and held it out as an example. “We have cell phones n-now, and emails and video chats.” 

“I’ll make sure of it,” Patty added from her chair beside Stanley’s, both of her hands wrapped carefully above the bandages of her husband’s upper arm. She threw Richie a sympathetic yet hopeful look, one that so greatly resembled Stanley’s. “I know what happened, and I won’t forget it...even if you all start to.” 

Mike smiled at Patty for the kind gesture, evident gratitude in his eyes. “I could call every day if you feel that you need it,” Mike said, his voice soft as he made his own offer in addition to Patty’s, “Or whenever you need the reassurance that you still remember.” 

“Yeah,” Richie said, shooting a thankful glance towards Mike, who smiled in return. But it wasn’t just the Losers, or even the events involving the clown that he was worried about. “...But what about Derry itself?”

Ben, still frowning, narrowed his eyes a bit. “Would you really want to remember Derry? After everything that happened there?” 

“If it means remembering the good stuff,” Richie admitted timidly, “Then remembering all the bad stuff would be worth it, I think.” 

It was all Richie had left of Eddie. Flashes of a broken, deranged town that traumatized him to no ends. But laced between those horrors were the cherished memories he was so terrified to lose. The Clubhouse, the quarry, their neighborhoods, the parks...his entire childhood was there. All of their memories together, from the moment they’d all first met and the Losers Club was founded. And if Eddie didn’t wake up again, the mere thought sending a pang of nausea directly to Richie’s stomach, those memories would be all Richie _ever_ had of Eddie. And he’d sooner perish then lose those memories again. 

“Do you, uh,” Richie hesitated as his voice grew quiet and he sank into Bill’s shoulder a bit. “...You remember that first night in Derry? When I drove off for an hour before coming back to the Townhouse?” 

Everyone nodded. 

“I went to the kissing bridge that night,” Richie confessed. He felt a warmth spread over his cheeks, and he buried his face further while avidly avoiding eye contact with the others as he spoke. “When we were younger I...I carved Eddie’s and my initials into it. R plus E. It was still there, after all this time, so I re-carved it. I don’t want to forget that.” 

Beverly chuckled, a single tear streaking down her cheek. A warm smile broke through on her face as she playfully patted Richie’s knee. Her voice was so tender. “You really did that?” 

“Yeah,” Richie softly laughed along with her. His blush deepened when she caught his eye. “I was a real sap.” 

“Well now that you’ve told us all, I don’t think Bev is _ever_ gonna let you forget that,” Mike grinned. 

“Me neither,” Stanley added from across the room, throwing Richie an amused wink as the others started to laugh. 

It wasn’t until the noise finally died down that Bill shifted in his seat. “Alright,” He said with a yawn, “It’s g-getting late, and they already let us stay past visiting hours. We should get you to bed, Rich.” 

“M’fine,” Richie mumbled, half-asleep on Bill’s shoulder. 

“Come on, Richie,” Mike said with a chuckle, offering his friend a hand. Richie took it with his good hand and let Mike pull him to a standing position. The others followed suit, standing and collecting their scattered belongings. “You can ride with me.” 

The others slowly made their way out the door and down the hall as Mike waited patiently for Richie as he said a silent goodnight to Eddie. They were the final two visitors remaining in the room, and just as Richie was about to turn and leave, Mike stopped him with a hand on his shoulder. He waited for Richie to glance back at him, the man’s eyes tired but aware, before speaking. “Listen, Richie. I know that with our...situation, you can’t talk about what really happened in Derry with other people. Or about what really happened with Stan or Eddie.” 

Richie stared at Mike, suddenly waking up a bit at the mention of those names. 

“I just want you to know that...if you ever wanted to...talk, or anything,” Mike stumbled over his words, but Richie didn’t seem to notice because of the sincerity in his eyes. “You can call me, any time. And I’m almost positive everyone else feels the same. Any time, any place...one of us will answer when you need it. Losers stick together, no matter how far apart we really are.”

A small, thankful smile appeared on Richie’s face. “Thanks, Mike.” 

“Here,” Mike extended his hand to Richie, a folded piece of paper clutched in between his fingers. 

Perplexed, Richie took it and carefully unfolded the thing sheet in his hands. He sucked in a sharp breath when he saw the single name hastily scratched above the phone number written in black ink.

Eddie Kaspbrak. 

“I...I just thought that-” Mike started, shrugging his shoulders and gesturing his hands towards the paper in Richie’s grasp. “-in case you wanted to...listen? Or if you had something to say, when you’re not here? You could...I don’t know, maybe that’s weird...I wanted to...I tested it earlier, it actually still works if you can believe it-” 

Richie smiled softly, his movement cutting Mike off as he reached into his pocket and pulled out his phone. He dialed the number with his shaking hand before tapping the button on his screen to put the call on speaker. The dial tone rang only once before a crackled voice suddenly sounded from the other line. Eddie’s phone was certainly dead by now, but somehow still in one piece. 

_”Hello, this is Edward Kaspbrak. I’m sorry I can’t answer the phone right now, but please leave a voicemail and I’ll get back to you as soon as I can. Thank you.”_

The smile on Richie’s face widened at the sound of Eddie’s voice through the speaker. It was so quiet, but way too professional and not enough curse words. Even so, it was so much better than the last words Richie heard Eddie speak down in the cavern, back when his voice was so full of hysterical fear and far too-evident pain. 

Strangely enough, it did wonders to put Richie’s racing mind at ease. 

Mike smiled somberly upon seeing Richie’s reaction. He shifted on his feet like there was something more to say, eyes falling for a moment as Richie waited in patient silence. “Richie, I’m...so sorry.” 

“For what?” 

“Everything, I guess,” Mike admitted, a look of sadness washing over his face. “This whole mess.” 

Richie frowned and shook his head, an unfamiliar confidence overtaking his voice as he answered. “Don’t be.” 

Mike looked taken aback, as if he expected Richie to blame him for what happened to the person he loved so dearly. 

“It’s not your fault, Mike,” Richie spoke with a mournful clarity, his eyes growing glassy. He recalled his final encounter with the entity in his mind, picturing himself as he overpowered the being and sent it spiraling into oblivion. He remembered the words he spoke to Mike the night they cooked dinner together, only this time he truly believed them. “...It’s not anyone’s fault.” 

Mike nodded, reaching up to wipe his own eyes with balled fists. And when he pulled them down, he was smiling again. “Thanks, Rich,” He breathed, taking a moment to collect himself, “You ready to go?” 

“Yeah,” Richie said, glancing over towards Eddie’s bed one last time. He hesitated as Mike strode out the door and into the hall, his eyes falling to where he knelt on the floor, to where he fought face-to-face with the unseen entity ravaging his head. Everything he’d felt during that break all coursed through him at once, nearly knocking him over as it manifested as an invisible punch to the gut. 

Richie won.

And for the first time in his life, he felt a spark of hope for his future. A pang of dread struck him at the notion as he stepped into the hall and fell into step beside Mike. 

Yes, Richie saw a future for himself. 

But only if Eddie was in it, too.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright so this is the point where I'm starting to run out of time proof-reading but I have to get this thing posted in a few hours...so again, I humbly apologize for any future typos and grammatical errors. 
> 
> Sorrow - Sleeping at Last 
> 
> It feels like falling  
> It feels like rain  
> Like losing my balance  
> Again and again  
> It once was so easy;  
> Breathe in. breathe out  
> But at the foot of this mountain  
> I only see clouds
> 
> I feel out of focus  
> Or at least indisposed  
> As this strange weather pattern  
> Inside me takes hold  
> Each brave step forward  
> I take three steps behind  
> It's mind over matter -  
> Matter over mind
> 
> Slowly  
> Then all at once  
> A single loose thread  
> And it all comes undone
> 
> Where there is light  
> A shadow appears  
> The cause and effect  
> When life interferes  
> The same rule applies  
> To goodness and grief;  
> For in our great sorrow  
> We learn what joy means
> 
> I don’t want to fight  
> I don’t want to fight it  
> But I will learn to fight  
> I will learn fight  
> ’Til this pendulum finds equilibrium
> 
> Slowly  
> Then all at once  
> The dark clouds depart  
> And the damage is done
> 
> So pardon the dust  
> While this all settles in  
> With a broken heart  
> Transformation begins


	26. Heal

No nightmares came to him that night. 

Richie slept soundly, falling deep into the embrace of rest as his exhausted body relished in the sweet, peculiar comfort. It was the first full night of sleep he’d had since the day Mike called him, and Richie never realized how fatigued he’d grown until he woke the following morning feeling rejuvenated. The sound of knuckles against his closed door bounced around the room just as Richie finished getting dressed. He frowned as he strode over to answer it. Nobody had ever knocked on his door since they’d arrived, probably too afraid to disturb him. Placing a hand on the cool metal knob, Richie swung open the door to find Beverly. “Hey, what’s up?” 

Beverly’s gaze drifted up to Richie’s hair, which was still matted and sprung in wild directions from his long night of much-needed sleep. She smirked as a sheepish look flashed across her face. “I didn’t wake you, did I?” 

“No, no,” Richie shook his head as he reached up to run a hand through his dark messy hair. “Is everything okay?” 

“Hm? Oh, yeah,” Beverly answered, a nervous tone in her voice. She fiddled with her hands as she gazed back up at Richie. “Can we talk?” 

A sense of unease cascaded down Richie’s spine at the hesitation in her voice, but he nodded and swung the door open wider so Beverly could fit through. Shutting the door behind him, Richie followed Beverly to the unused bed and sat down. He hoped she couldn’t see the fear growing in his eyes at the inkling in his head of what this talk could be about. Richie hadn’t forgotten the moment when Beverly grew so tense beneath him as he confessed his secret affection for Eddie, how she masked her frustration without a single word. Taking the initiative, Richie spoke before Beverly had the chance. “I’m so sorry, Bevvie.” 

Beverly stared back at him in surprise, searching his eyes for the question she hadn’t even asked yet. Richie knew she’d found it when her expression went slack and her posture faltered, shoulders slumping a bit. She clenched her jaw as her eyes started to glisten, the agonized look on her face striking Richie right in the heart. He never meant to hurt her, or any of the other Losers. “When did you figure it out...that you were gay?” She finally asked, eyes narrowing by the slightest fraction. 

A sigh fell from Richie’s mouth, eyes unfocused as he sifted back through his blurred memories of Derry. Some were more vivid than others, but the further back he searched the more difficult they were to see. “I don’t know,” Richie admitted truthfully, unable to pinpoint the exact age or date, “I think I always kinda knew, deep down. I just never wanted to believe it when we were kids. I hoped that if I ignored it, it would just go away on its own. Then everyone would forget what they used to say about me.” 

Beverly’s stare was hard and unmoving. She listened with great intent, the vulnerability in her friend’s voice so off-putting that she barely kept her composure under control. 

“It wasn’t until high school that I knew it wouldn’t ever go away,” Richie continued, his voice strained as new memories appeared in his thoughts. He could see the questions forming in Beverly’s eyes as he spoke, and he did his best to answer them all as he went. “There was a day when I overheard you say what the girls at school wrote about me on the bathroom stalls. I ran home as fast as I could before you saw me, locked myself in my bedroom, and cried almost the entire night. I was so fucking afraid, Bev.” 

A tear slipped from Beverly’s eye, but she refrained from interrupting. Richie had never opened up to her before, not like this, and both of them knew it. Beverly was probably afraid that if she opened her mouth, Richie would cease to speak on the topic, as if breaking a sudden trance. 

“But then we all left for college, and I never came back,” Richie recalled, his final goodbye with Eddie replaying in his mind. He shivered at the memory, a bittersweet pang erupting from his chest. “I forgot all of you...forgot _him_. But that fear, that same fear I had as a kid never went away. It stayed there for my entire life, even when I’d forgotten who put it there in the first place.” 

“The clown,” Beverly finally breathed, blinking a few more tears from her eyes. She offered Richie a pitiful smile when he frowned in shock at her response. “Stan told me what you said to him on the car ride back here last night. About what...It did to you.” 

Now it was Richie’s turn to be silent. 

“I was so angry,” Beverly confessed, shaking her head as her jaw visibly tightened, “When I found out how long you’d been hiding all of this from us. I felt so betrayed, so _hurt._ But...at the same time...I wanted to kick myself for thinking such a selfish thing. You’re my best friend, Rich. And when we were kids, I thought we could tell each other anything. I’m so sorry if I ever made it seem like you couldn’t.” 

“No, nothing like that,” Richie reassured Beverly with a saddened gaze, reaching out to place his hand on top of hers. “It wasn’t your fault and, as much as I’m still trying to accept it, it wasn’t mine either. The _clown_ told me from the start that nobody could ever know my secret, and he made me believe that...nobody would love me if the truth ever got out.” 

“Oh, Rich,” Beverly cried, shifting her hand to wrapped it tightly around Richie’s. 

“I lived like that for three decades, Bevvie,” Richie uttered out loud for the first time, the words like stones in his heart. “Terrified of anyone discovering my secret, cutting people off when they got too close. I lost so much time...time spent feeling so afraid, time I could’ve spent with all of you instead of...fuck…” 

“I’m so sorry, honey,” Beverly exhaled, her voice a sweet mix of sorrow and a stinging fury. “I’d give anything to go back and make it all go away, but no one can change the past. But now we’re all together, and we can make do with what we have, right?”

A small smile grew on Richie’s face as he offered Beverly a partial nod and leaned in to wrap his arms around her torso. And, to his comfort, she embraced him back without hesitation. “I missed you so much, Bevvie,” Richie said as a few strands of her hair draped across his face.

Beverly laughed through her tears, pulling her friend even tighter. “I missed you too, Richie.” 

Seconds passed before Richie’s thoughts drifted back to Eddie. Yes, they were all together. But Richie couldn’t truly see it that way, not unless he was awake. His nerves made the group’s trip to the hospital even more unnerving than normal, every second that passed feeling more like an hour. Patty and Stanley had gotten a room at the same hotel a few floors below their suite. The pair joined them upstairs once they were ready, however, so they could all leave for the hospital together. 

Richie’s hands trembled as they made their way to Eddie’s room, their large group taking up most of the hallway as they advanced. Pulling his hands towards his chest, Richie fiddled with his fingers as a distraction, knowing they were almost to his hallway. Beverly must’ve caught sight of Richie’s shaking hands, for she quickly reached up and took one in her own as they continued walking. She gave Richie a subtle yet reassuring squeeze. 

Just as the group rounded the final turn towards Eddie’s room, a small figure with bright red hair rushed by. The woman halted in her tracks upon the sight of them, eyes widening with instant recognition. “Oh, perfect timing,” Joey greeted them lightly as she made her way over. Her eyes almost immediately fell on Richie’s bandaged arm, searching for any sign of distress or irritation. “How’s the arm?” 

Richie threw her a sheepish smile, thinking back to that morning as Bill and Stanley fussed over his injured arm, arguing over the instructions they’d been given on how to properly clean it. So absorbed in their disagreement, they hadn’t even noticed when Ben stepped in and quietly helped Richie clean the affected areas with ease. “It’s fine,” Richie said with a curt nod, too preoccupied with his thoughts of Eddie to say any more, “Thanks.” 

“Good. Let me know if you have any swelling or redness, okay?” Joey smiled, relief overcoming her face as she shifted her weight between her feet. After receiving a confirming nod from Richie, Joey turned back to address the entire group. Her smile widened as her eyes scanned from one Loser to the next, sending a nervous rush through Richie’s stomach. “Come with me,” She said as she turned on her heels and strode a few doors down to Eddie’s room. 

The group followed closely behind Joey as she crossed the threshold of the doorway. One by one, everyone entered the room, with Richie taking up the rear. A nervous chill rushed through him as they walked closer to Eddie’s bed, his heart pounded in his chest. The sound of it echoed inside his ears, the sound so loud that he almost missed Joey’s words. 

But even after taking notice to her speech, Richie barely focused on what she’d been saying, his eyes locked on the man laying in front of them. Just overnight, the haunting yellow tone of Eddie’s skin had pointedly faded, and some color had returned to his face and chest. The changes were probably undetectable to a stranger, but they made a world of difference to Richie. It’d sparked something buoyant in his chest. For the first time in days, Eddie actually looked _alive_ , instead of just the empty husk he’d slowly become as every minute passed without his new liver.

“...no signs of rejection at all, which is fantastic,” Joey trailed on, Richie finally tuning in to what she’d been informing the others about. “And now that his body can make the enzymes it needs, the condition of the grafts on his lung and diaphragm are already improving.” 

“What about the toxins?” Richie asked, his eyes not leaving Eddie’s face as he spoke, “You said there was a build-up of them from his old liver, right? And that’s what put him in the coma?” 

“Yes,” Joey nodded, her expression suddenly turning more stoic. “The liver helps eliminate ammonia from the body, so when Eddie’s liver got so damaged, it couldn’t perform to capacity. The ammonia went straight to his brain and lowered his oxygen levels, putting him in the coma. It’s called hepatic encephalopathy.” 

“W-w-what about now?” Bill asked gesturing to Eddie nervously. “Now that h-his b-body is accepting the new liver?” 

“Well, we’ve been closely monitoring him,” Joey started, shifting back and forth on her feet again. “The good news is that his brain activity has been constant despite the low oxygen levels he’d experienced right before the transplant. His ammonia levels haven’t changed much, but the fact that they haven’t _risen_ since the transplant is, well...a very good sign, actually.” 

“So he’ll wake up then, eventually? If those levels start to go down?” Ben asked as his eyes gleamed with anticipation. 

“I still can’t say for certain,” Joey admitted honestly, the words striking Richie’s heart like a truck. He had to remind himself, though, that doctors _never_ guaranteed anything. And that alone never meant recovery was out of the picture. “But as long as Eddie’s body continues to accept the liver, exhibit brain activity, and start to reduce the ammonia levels...I think he has a real shot.” 

“Really?” Richie gasped, sucking in a sharp breath as his eyes widened with hesitant hope. 

“Yeah, I think so,” Joey smiled, her expression genuine. “If he _does_ wake up, though, there’s no way of knowing how long it’ll be before it happens, or what kind of state he’ll be in when he does. We just have to wait and let his body heal at its own pace.” 

A wave of relief flooded Richie’s mind, waves of the sensation tumbling down his body all the way to his hands and feet. It was no guarantee, not by any means, but Richie could see the change in Joey’s eyes as she spoke. There was a light he hadn’t seen before, the faintest glimmer whenever she smiled. 

Darker thoughts lurked in the back of Richie’s mind, ones that whispered tragedies worse than anything Richie could imagine as they loomed in the shadows. They flashed images of Eddie in his mind, scenarios in which he’d never wake. But now, there was no voice to project them, and Richie swept the thoughts away like they were nothing but a leaf in a gentle breeze. For the first time, he’d finally found a healthy balance between hoping for the best outcome while subtly acknowledging the worst. 

In that freeing moment of lucidity, Richie was certain he’d wandered into a dream, crossing worlds to a place where he felt nothing but an untouched will, one that dared him to hold onto hope. A fleeting glimpse of a glassy future worth protecting, blurred at its edges and nearly impossible to make out. But he’d seen it, if only for the shortest moment. And the sight gifted Richie with an admirable tenacity that nearly overwhelmed him with a new impression of ease. 

He waited for so damn long, every moment only granting strength to the irrevocable silence that swallowed his entire being. 

It was anguish. 

A torment that prolonged every second into minutes. 

Surely, this was only a dream, to see Eddie improve so spectacularly overnight. To learn that he just may have a fighting chance in this after all. To know, that in the end, it would no longer be the clown who had the last laugh. 

So he waited. 

He waited for the crushing weight of reality to land on his shoulders and send him toppling to the cold floor. But the jump back to the present never came, Richie quick to discover it was because he was already there. 

This was real. 

Surging forward, Richie practically threw himself against Joey as he wrapped his arms around her tightly. The fresh wounds on his arm stung at the sudden pressure, but he didn’t mind in the slightest. Not when the sight of Eddie’s conceivable improvement sat right before his eyes. “Thank you,” He voiced with tremendous relief and gratitude, “For everything. He wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t for you.” 

Joey pulled back, a shy and modest smile on her face. “From what I hear,” She said, raising her eyebrows and cocking her head, “The same can be said about you.” 

Richie frowned, his mind racing as the words from the doctor at the first hospital suddenly sounded in his head. 

_He’s a lucky, lucky man. He would’ve died if you hadn’t packed the wound so tightly._

“I’ll be around,” Joey said as she shot Richie one last smile before slipping past the others and towards the door. “Call if anything changes.” 

As silence overtook the room, the group seemed to heave a collective, alleviated sigh. Richie turned, glancing at the other’s faces, instantly recognizing that he wasn’t the only one who’d noticed the drastic improvement in Eddie’s appearance from before the transplant. 

This felt like a dream.

But it was so fucking real. 

Richie swore the sun shined brighter that day as they all sat, surrounding Eddie’s bed on all sides. The morning was spent in a pleasant silence once Beverly opened the window above Eddie’s bed. An amused smirk crossed Richie’s face when Stanley perked up at the sound of a bird’s call out the window as he craned his neck in an attempt to locate its owner. The entire atmosphere of the room had shifted for the better, whether it was from Richie finally opening up or Eddie’s improving condition. 

Perhaps a bit of both. 

As the day went on, the group conversed more often, sharing stories from their lives they hadn’t had a chance to divulge. They also re-told stories the others had already heard as well, for Stanley and Patty’s sake. Richie rarely contributed, much preferring to hear what the others had done during all their time spent apart. It was the closest he’d come to filling the empty gaps in his life left behind by the clown, and Richie did his best to make do with what he could. So he listened, taking careful note of every detail as he sealed them away in his mind for safe-keeping. 

Richie did so from where he lounged across two-thirds of the futon, his calves and feet hanging off the far end. He leaned with his back comfortably against Ben’s side, facing the ceiling as he rested his head on the man’s shoulder. The contentment that rushed through Richie as he felt the warmth of Ben’s arm against his back was unmatched. He’d locked himself away for so many years, terrified of growing too close to anyone in fear of what they’d learn about him. A lack of physical human contact so extreme made every touch and embrace with his friends all the more meaningful. 

But now, Richie no longer recoiled when he felt a gentle hand on his shoulder, or a welcoming arm wrapping around his back. It was like the instinctual reaction he’d developed simmered away like vapors. For the first time since the clown first clawed its way into his life, Richie felt safe again. 

He felt loved again. 

Richie cherished the unfamiliar sensation, tears brimming in his eyes at times when someone would laugh or smile in his direction.

Like nothing had ever changed. 

Richie listened with great intent as Mike talked about the positive aspects of his life in Derry, like his job as a librarian. He spoke with a new sense of peace in his voice, one Richie felt so deeply, while relaying his plans to drive back to collect his things before driving to Florida. Bill spoke more of his career, about the books he’d written in the past and how he’d gotten to where he was today. Richie made a mental note of each, committing the names of Bill’s works to memory so he could look them up later.

Beverly still had plans to go live with Ben as she finalized her divorce and restraining order. She didn’t want to return to her old place in New York at all, but Ben insisted on going back himself to retrieve a few of her things that couldn’t be replaced. Richie was hesitant about the idea at first, but knew that Ben wouldn’t let Beverly anywhere near that place. Ben was looking out for her first, just like he always had. And once separated from her ex-husband and his name for good, Beverly planned on branching off and developing a new independent company. Richie smiled widely at that. 

The room quieted a bit when Stanley spoke of his life, the other Losers hearing it all for the first time. With Stanley and Patty arriving at the hospital at such a hectic time, they’d never gotten a chance to properly catch up like the others had at the restaurant. Stanley was an accountant, and seemed to be living a very happy life with Patty. There was a quiet mention of trying for kids as well, but with no success. 

Then Stanley got to Mike’s call. 

He kept it brief, knowing the other’s had already heard the details from Patty over the phone earlier that week. But he spoke of his time in the hospital and what it was like to wake up in such a disoriented state. He told them how he knew something happened that night, how he could sense it deep in his core. It was his first thought when he woke, and the first words to leave his mouth. 

_Is It dead? Did they beat It?_

Richie shivered at the thought, picturing Stanley laying in that hospital bed. Just like Eddie, he was a living medical miracle that baffled his doctors. He’d been dead for nearly fifteen minutes, and yet here he sat, almost fully recovered. Richie shot a skittish glance at Eddie when the thought struck his mind, another swell of hope rising in his heart as he begged his friend to keep fighting. That he was so close, and that he could win. The tone in the room shifted once again, however, when Stanley brought up what he did to pass the time while still admitted to the hospital. 

“Oh, and I watched the rest of your specials, Richie,” Stanley commented from across the room, lifting his eyebrows with a joking smirk and a glint in his eye. Richie’s eyes tripled in size at the words as he shot up in his seat, staring Stanley down to see if he was just fucking with him.

And he certainly wasn’t. 

“Ah, shit,” Richie groaned when Stanley pulled out a piece of paper from his pocket and unfolded it in one fluid movement. He ran a frustrated hand through his hair before falling back against Ben in a dreadful anticipation of what was about to unfold. “Are you screwing with me right now? You _actually_ took goddamn notes?” 

Patty stifled a laugh as she mouthed an apologetic “sorry” from across the room. Stanley cleared his throat loudly. 

“A comprehensive list on how I know there’s no way Richie writes his own shit,” Stanley read, ignoring Richie’s onslaught of snide side-comments, “One. There wasn’t a single joke about fucking someone’s mom in _any_ of the specials.” 

Richie exaggeratedly groaned again, spinning on the futon so he could lean his forehead against Ben’s shoulder to hide his face. Ben chuckled and patted him on the back. “Because I would _never_ betray Eddie’s mom like that, moving on,” Richie argued without hesitation as he gestured for Stanley to continue, drawing a laugh from the others. “And stop encouraging him, Bill. I saw that, you little shit.” 

Bill burst into another fit of laughter, raising his arms in innocence despite the nod he’d just thrown Stanley to confirm the truth of his claim. 

“Two,” Stanley continued, smirking, “You mocked a guy in one of your stories about how obnoxious his outfit and sense of style was. Pretty sure I don’t have to explain that one.” 

Beverly cackled, placing a hand on Mike’s shoulder to steady herself, “Who could forget all of those hideous Hawaiian shirts?” 

“What the fuck, Bev?! Oh, come on,” Richie nagged, sitting up as he threw his arms in the air, “They’re not _that_ bad.” 

“Wait,” Beverly said with narrowed eyes at Richie’s defensive tone, emphasizing the dread filling her voice. “You still own some, don’t you?”

“Hell yeah, I do!” Richie replied, playfully flipping off Beverly as she huffed a laugh and rolled her eyes at him. She buried her face in her hands and shook her head, exaggeratedly disappointed. 

“Three,” Stanley laughed as he shot a glance at Beverly, “I’m fairly certain at least twenty-five percent of your jokes were pulled directly from memes off of a forty-year-old woman’s Facebook page.”

“Wait, you actually know what a meme is?” Richie smiled teasingly, acting genuinely surprised. He jumped and tried to shield himself when Stanley lobbed a small pillow at him from across the room. Richie’s yelp when it struck his face drew another round of laughter from the group, the warm sound sending a thrilled rush through Richie’s chest. 

“Four,” Stanley continued, dodging the pillow with ease after Richie sent it hurling back, “You once made a joke about something that happened on one of your _morning runs_ for exercise.” 

Richie finally lost his composure at that one, snorting as he brought a hand up to his mouth to stifle his laugh. Memories flooded his mind of all the times he’d skipped gym class to avoid having to run. “Alright, Staniel. You got me on that one.” 

It felt so fulfilling to finally remember what’d been missing from his heart and mind for so many years, and to be surrounded by people he finally felt confident putting his full and complete trust into. He still felt the guilt of not overcoming his fears sooner, knowing that the regret would never fully go away. But with every moment spent with the Losers was like suturing another broken bond in his heart. 

It was healing. 

People left in pairs or trios throughout the day, taking turns to go grab a hot meal. With so many people crammed into Eddie’s small room, they needed a break to walk around and stretch their sore muscles. Richie was the last to leave, him and Ben trailing closely behind Mike as the man led the way down to the cafeteria. They all bought a pre-made sandwich and soup and ate together near one of the tall, stretching windows of the lobby. 

Richie, having finished eating first, left to return to Eddie’s room without waiting for Mike and Ben to finish up. He knew the doctors would be going on evening rounds soon, and he wanted to be back in time to hear any updates. It wasn’t until Richie was a mere two steps from the open doorway did he hear his name. They were talking about him. Not keen on the idea of eavesdropping, Richie rounded the corner and stepped into the room. All eyes shot to him, and Richie stopped short on his path to the empty chair next to Eddie’s bed. He raised a suspicious eyebrow as his gaze slowly panned from one person to the next. “What’s up?” 

“Just talking about travel plans,” Beverly answered honestly, holding her phone up to display a long list of flight tickets and prices. “Ben took as much time off work as he possibly could, and the only time in the next week my lawyers can meet is two days from now. I just booked a flight for us that leaves tomorrow evening.” 

A sadness overcame Richie at the news as he silently wished for more time with his friends. It’d been so long, and they’d lost so much time...it only felt right to spend as much time together now as they could. 

But nothing lasts forever, though. 

And sooner or later they’d all have to return to their lives. 

“W-we were just thinking, Rich,” Bill added, shooting a quick look towards Beverly beside him before continuing, “Why d-don’t you come stay with me and Audra for a b-bit? We have a guest room, and I could, uh, use the c-c-company while I work on my next book.” 

A pause. 

Wearing a thoughtful expression, Richie looked back and forth between Bill and Beverly. It took no expert to see that Beverly was clearly behind this. Sighing inwardly, Richie thought back to the concern in her stare after their talk in his bedroom that morning. He didn’t blame her for wanting to make sure he was alright, not after everything they've been through. 

And with Beverly sitting right in front of him, staring him down expectantly, there was no way in hell Richie could say no even if he wanted to. “Uh, sure?” Richie agreed as he met Beverly’s satisfied gaze, “I don’t wanna like, impede or anything, though.” 

“N-not at all, Rich,” Bill smiled, “You’re w-welcome as long as you like.” 

Richie nodded, shifting his weight again where he stood. “Alright, well thanks, Billiam.” 

“Of course, R-r-richie,” Bill replied, glancing down to swipe at his phone screen a few times. He adjusted his reading glasses, double-checking the prices of the tickets he’d found before Richie came downstairs. “I’ll need to b-be heading back soon t-too, to finish working on the f-f-film.” 

The words struck Richie with a new pulse of remorse, guilt flooding his core at the thought of leaving Eddie here. Yet, at the same time, Richie knew Eddie would be left in the skilled and caring hands of the doctors who saved his life. He didn’t let his ever-growing hope blind him, reminding himself that if Eddie woke up, there was no way of knowing when that would be. 

It could be days, weeks, maybe months...a year. Richie didn’t let himself think beyond that, but remained a little too aware of the possibility. All Richie knew was that he’d be back on a plane the _moment_ Eddie showed any sign of consciousness. 

“There’s a flight the d-day after tomorrow. Is t-that okay?” Bill asked as he tapped on the screen of his phone to select the tickets and review them. 

“Uh, yeah, I think so,” Richie replied, pulled back to the present with Bill’s words. He paused, heart thumping loudly in his chest as his eyes drifted back towards Eddie’s unmoving form beneath the covers. “But...what happens to Eddie when we all leave?” 

“He stays here,” Beverly answered, her gaze following Richie’s to land on Eddie’s face. “Joey stopped by right before you got back, and we asked her if she’d be able to call and give us updates after we leave. She said she’d be happy to.” 

Richie stared for a moment, the words sinking in. Regular updates wouldn’t be so bad, even if Richie still desperately wanted to stay here with Eddie. But he knew Beverly was probably making the right call when it came to staying with Bill. He wasn’t in the right sound of mind to possibly take care of himself right now, far too worried about Eddie’s condition. “Okay,” He nodded, “Okay, that’s good.” 

Bill and Beverly smiled back at him with grateful expressions. 

“We’re staying an extra two days after you’ll leave,” Patty said with a small smile. She’d been sitting quietly next to Stanley on the futon, listening to the others’ conversation with focused eyes. “Just to make sure there aren’t any other complications.” 

Stanley nodded in agreement as he shot Richie a comforting expression that made him smile. 

Even after all this time, the Losers always looked out for each other. 

The rest of the day passed by in a blur. They’d returned back to the hotel not long after Ben and Mike finished their meals, the group putting in a collective effort to clean the suite they’d completely trashed with their belongings over the past week. Their things were scattered across nearly every surface. After spending so much time at the hospital every day, none of them had taken the time to clean up their clutter until now. 

After heading to bed, Richie was met with another restful night of sleep. He was out within a few mere minutes of his head hitting the pillow, his last wakeful thoughts of his friends and their imminent departure. 

Only this time, he dreamt. 

Richie saw no terrors from the deep abyss in his mind and felt no fear as his environment slowly materialized before him and swept him away into another time. 

_”Hey,” Richie sighed as he put his car in park on the side of the road, the volume of his voice nothing more than a hushed whisper. He eyed the boy next to him, a terrible mix of emotions rushing through his chest. This was the moment he’d been dreading for days...weeks...months. It was the day Richie was leaving for college, his backseat and trunk stuffed full with almost all of his belongings._

_Gingerly extending a hand, Richie placed a finger under Eddie’s chin and lifted his face to meet his gaze. Eddie jumped at the touch, blinking quickly as a few stray tears cascaded down his cheeks. An anguished pang hit Richie in the gut, a sadness swelling in his stomach at the sight. Richie reached up and wiped the tears away with his knuckle, nearly forgetting how soft Eddie’s skin was. “Don’t get all mushy on me now, Eds.”_

_Richie flinched when he realized his words only seemed to make the tears fall faster._

_Eddie’s face scrunched with embarrassment as he tried to stop, averting his eyes to the dashboard to avoid Richie’s stare. “What did I fucking tell you, Rich,” Eddie grumbled, crossing his arms and leaning back in his seat. “Don’t call me Eds.”_

_“Alright fine,” Richie smirked, leaning a casual arm on the steering wheel, “Whatever you say, Eddie Spaghetti.”_

_Eddie rolled his eyes as he scrunched his mouth to the side, “Can’t you just call me by my normal name?”_

_Richie chuckled at his friend’s expression, a nervous wave striking his core. Shit, he was really gonna miss that annoyed face Eddie always made at him...and how it always made his heart flutter._

_“Funny,” Richie replied smoothly, “That’s not what your mom said to me last night.”_

_Richie grinned as Eddie swatted his shoulder, his soft chuckle quickly growing much louder when he caught the small smile that tugged on Eddie’s lips. Fuck, Richie was really gonna miss that._

_“Hey!” Richie laughed, reaching up to pinch Eddie’s cheek. “There he is.”_

_Eddie jerked away with a roll of his eyes as he suddenly averted his gaze. He looked out the window, Richie leaning forward to try and see his face. But when Eddie turned back to face him, Richie’s heart all but stopped right then and there as he was met with a full, genuine smile._

_Shit._

_He was gonna miss Eddie so fucking much._

_A silence fell between the pair as Richie’s laughter gradually died down, the only sound in the car being the dull static of the radio. Hoping Eddie wouldn’t catch his trembling hands, Richie reached over to switch it off before glancing back at Eddie with a more serious expression. “Eddie?”_

_“Yeah?” Eddie replied, meeting Richie’s gaze._

_“I, uh,” Richie stammered, panic clouding his mind. He reached a hand up to scratch the back of his head awkwardly. God, he hated feeling so vulnerable when he tried to open up. “I...I know it’s not that far, but...I...listen, Eddie...I’m gonna...I...I’ll-”_

_Eddie smiled softly. “I’ll miss you too, Rich.”_

_Tears threatened to spill from Richie’s eyes as he huffed a nervous laugh, nodding his head, “...Y-yeah.”_

_“It’s not for forever, though,” Eddie added with a reassuring glance. Richie instantly played that phrase on repeat in his mind, letting the words sink in. They’d see each other soon, it was only a few months before their first break._

_That wasn’t so bad._

_“Better not be,” Richie said with a wink, “Your mom would get so lonely without me there!”_

_“Seriously, Richie?” Eddie groaned, smacking him again in the same spot._

_“What?” Richie asked as he raised his arms in defeat. “It’s gonna be a while before I see you again, I gotta get all the good jokes out while I still can.”_

_“Then you should probably start telling them,” Eddie countered, trying and almost immediately failing to mask his smirk with a serious expression as Richie pretended to look offended. Only a very few people could keep up with Richie’s jokes with such witty remarks, and one of them had always been Eddie. Richie loved it. “I really fucking hate you sometimes, you know that?”_

_“Aw, Eds,” Richie gushed while placing his hands over his heart, seeing right through Eddie’s failed attempt to be angry. No matter how much they bickered, they could never stay mad at each other for long. Their record was probably around a solid ten minutes. “I hate you, too!”_

_Sighing, Eddie leaned forward and grabbed Richie by the shoulders. “Come here, asshole.”_

_Richie jumped as Eddie pulled him into a tight embrace. His heart, which had already been racing in his chest, now pounded so fiercely that he was astounded Eddie couldn’t hear it. He hesitated, arms hanging awkwardly in the air before he wrapped them tightly around Eddie’s back. Their embrace grounded Richie, just like it had every time before. And Eddie knew it, too._

_They clung to each other, heads resting on the other’s shoulder. Eddie was so warm, and Richie wasn’t sure how long he’d sat there taking it all in._

_Neither of them seemed to want to pull back, but Richie eventually did so. Was it always this warm in his car? Wait, shit, SHIT, he was blushing._

_Mouth hanging slightly ajar, Richie reached up to adjust the glasses resting on his nose. “Uh,” Richie said, quickly turning to face the steering wheel again. “I should get going, before it gets dark.”_

_If Eddie didn’t leave soon, Richie knew his composure would break. His eyes burned as he tried so desperately to hold back the tears that continued to build up there._

_“Yeah,” Eddie agreed after an awkward pause, nodding as he unbuckled his seatbelt, “Yeah, you’re right.”_

_Climbing out of the car and onto the sidewalk, Eddie turned to face Richie once more, Richie staring back with an expression of pure sincerity. He let himself drift into Eddie’s dark eyes, becoming lost in their warmth one final time. His eyes were so beautiful, even when they were filled with fury._

_One of Eddie’s hands rested on the open car door while the other reached over to steady himself against the side of the car. “Drive safe, alright Rich?”_

_Richie rolled his eyes, but shot back a smile. “I’ll do my very best. Just for you, Eds.”_

_Eddie let out a nervous laugh, shifting his weight on his feet. His expression suddenly grew more serious as he stared into Richie’s eyes with a newfound intensity. “I’ll see you soon?”_

_“Yeah,” Richie nodded, mirroring the look on Eddie’s face. “Bye, Eddie.”_

_“Bye, Richie.”_

_Eddie shut the door with a slam. With one final wave goodbye, Richie pulled back into the street and made his way down the pavement. Eddie watched him go, stepping out into the road, a single tear sliding down his face as he outstretched an arm to wave._

_Richie watched Eddie’s form shrink in his rear-view mirror, his hands gripping the wheel so tightly his fingers ached. He never moved his gaze until Eddie was but a distant blur, unmoving where he stood in the middle of the road. And when Eddie’s form finally vanished completely from sight, Richie cracked._

_He sobbed as he drove._

_And behind his tears, Eddie’s face appeared in his mind, those last few images of him standing on the road forever engraved in his mind. Then, one by one, the other Loser’s faces appeared as well. Kind smiles grew on their faces as Richie recalled each and every one of his final goodbyes with them._

_But it was alright, because he’d see them again in just a few months._

_A few months wasn’t so bad._

_After that goodbye, Richie arrived at his college and moved into his dorm that evening. He thought about the Losers every single day, wondering what they were doing and if they were enjoying college more than he was. Richie struggled with the work, unable to focus and constantly pulled into his own thoughts. He never had that problem in high school, he got almost all straight A’s. College was different, however, and none of Richie’s closest friends were there to help him get through it. Yeah, he met some nice people from class, and yeah, his roommate wasn’t so bad. But they would never be a Loser._

_As time passed, Richie’s drifting thoughts visited his memories of his friends from Derry less and less. Their faces would appear in his mind every so often, even more so in his dreams...but after a while Richie couldn’t recall who they were. He knew that he’d seen those faces before, but he could never pinpoint how. Maybe they were people he’d seen around campus? He never found the answer to his question, though. By the time Richie was nearly done with his first year of school, the stress, the frustration, and the fatigue of studying finally caught up with him. Within the last month of the school year, Richie dropped out of college and decided to take his chances and move to Los Angeles. He’d spent some time working at the local radio station in college, and he was able to make some connections out that way to get him a job to start out with._

_A week later, as Richie crossed the border to California, the scarce, deteriorating memories of Derry that still lingered in his head were wisped away with a single blow. The last image he saw was the fleeting face of a boy he didn’t know, laying beside him in the grass as they gazed up into the stars. And then, just like that, it was gone. Unphased, Richie drove onward towards a hopeful future, completely unaware of the life and friends he’d left behind._

Richie woke with a start, his eyes shooting open as he took in his surroundings. A deep exhale fell from his lips as he recalled where he was, as well as the memory that’d resurfaced in his dream. He stilled remembered it so clearly, like it only just happened. It was so strange how, after returning to Derry as an adult, Richie could recall the exact moments his memories were wiped clean. 

A terrifying grief overcame Richie’s heart at the thought, but he quickly pushed it away as he fought to maintain his composure. Beverly and Ben were leaving today, and Richie and Bill the next. The fear that flourished within him was unjust, nothing more than an instinctual response. The clown was dead, and they would lose no more memories to that asshole. 

Richie showered early in an attempt to wash away the remnants of remorse left behind by his dream. It worked for a bit, but only after Richie repeatedly reminded himself that he would remember his friends this time. His friends that loved and accepted him for who he was, the people who Richie knew would never let him feel alone again. That thought alone was enough to bring him a comfort he hadn’t felt in a long time. 

The group all stopped at the hospital that morning so that Beverly and Ben could check one Eddie one last time before their flight. 

Richie’s heart soared when he set sight upon Eddie, his friend’s improvement even more visible than the previous day. Joey stopped by when they arrived to confirm the observation, noting that Eddie’s wounds were still healing well and that his new liver was functioning without complications. His ammonia levels had fluctuated through the night, she’d told them, but now seemed to be approaching a very, very slow but steady decline. 

Eddie still had a fighting chance. 

All he had to do was keep holding on. 

The Losers all stood around Eddie, silent as their stares drifted from one person to the next. They’d all been through one _hell_ of a week. It was so baffling to think that less than two weeks ago, they didn’t even know the other Losers existed and couldn’t remember nearly anything from their childhood. 

A lot can change in such a short time. 

Now, here the Losers Club stood, parting ways from Maine and each other for the second time. But this time was different. This time, they wouldn’t forget. They’d make sure of it. Instead, they’ll maintain the bonds they re-forged, no matter the distance between them. They were Losers, after all. And they always would be. 

“So this is where we say g-goodbye, huh?” Bill smiled, voice low as he watched Ben grab their things and place them by the door. 

“Yeah,” Ben answered in a bittersweet tone, “But not forever.” 

“No, definitely not,” Beverly agreed with a relaxed smile, squeezing Ben’s arm from beside him. She reached into her pocket and held up her phone, tapping it with her index finger. “None of you are getting away from me that easily.” 

Everyone laughed, the sound so warm and soothing. 

“Thank you,” Mike said once the noise had died down. His eyes slowly panned from Loser to Loser, sending each of them a look of extended gratitude and fondness. “For the risks you all took and the sacrifices you made, and for seeing this oath through until the end. We...we can all rest now. It’s finally over.” 

“We wouldn’t be here without you, Mike,” Ben added in a bittersweet tone, saying what everyone else was thinking. Yes, they’d faced horrors that would haunt them for the rest of their lives. But pain even that extreme was preferable over a life without each other. 

“And I wouldn’t be here without all of you,” Stanley disclosed, his expression serious yet thankful. And he was right, it seemed. If they killed the clown any later, crushing its overbearing and influencing power as they did so, Stanley and Eddie may not have pulled through. Ripping the clown’s invisible clutches from their lives gave them the strength they needed to fight back. 

No, ignorance certainly wasn’t fucking bliss. 

Not by a long shot. 

“I, uh,” Richie stammered, pulling everyone’s eyes to him. He could hear his heartbeat in his ears as a timid warmth flooded his face. Even so, he poured every ounce of emotion he had into the few short words he spoke next. In all his life, he’d never meant something so genuine, so resolute. “I love you all very much. And thank you for, you know...” 

_Thank you for understanding why I did what I did, and why it took me such a long time to be able to finally face it._

The others stared at him, surprised, as if they’d all expected a joke to roll out of his mouth at the end. But it never came. And as Richie’s words sunk in, Beverly surged forward and threw her arms around him. The others followed suit until the all stood together, embracing each other one final time. 

“We love you too, Rich,” Beverly said as she pulled back and ran a gentle hand along the side of Richie’s face. Richie smiled back at her, but jumped when Beverly leaned back in and whispered something only he could hear. “Call me every night, okay?” 

Richie blinked in surprise, his expression quickly softening as the words settled in his mind. He looked as though he was about to object, but Richie knew better than to pick a fight with Beverly. Another smile grew on his face. “Sure thing, Bevvie.”

Beverly nodded in approval, a satisfied look on her face. As she pulled back, the Losers found themselves embracing each other individually. And with every embrace, came more words of affection and reassurance. The others flocked Beverly with another round of goodbyes and laughter while Ben approached Richie with his hands shoved in his pockets. Richie suddenly felt himself becoming emotional as they silently stared. All those secret meetings, all those phrases Ben made him repeat again and again and again...they all flowed through Richie’s mind like a welcoming burst of sunlight over the horizon’s edge at dawn. They saved him, helped pull him from the darkest corners of his own mind when he was at his absolute lowest.

“Ben, I-” Richie said, eyes growing glassy as he smiled and threw his arms over Ben’s shoulders. The gesture conveyed Richie’s immense gratitude for Ben’s patience, kindness, and lack of judgement than any words could. “Thank you.” 

Ben pat Richie on the back, his eyes drifting to Beverly, and then Eddie, before he finally threw him a glance back at Richie. Happiness shone brightly on his face, a relief so strong that Richie found the man before him tearing up as well. “Thank _you_ , Richie.” 

“For what?” Richie huffed a laugh as the others converged around Ben to say goodbye. 

“For trusting us,” Was all Ben said before Mike and Bill practically tackled him. Ben smiled as he turned towards the pair, but not before shooting Richie one final look full of nothing less than the most faithful and overjoyed sentiment. Richie beamed back, a single tear falling down his face. 

Stanley stood towards the back of the group, a smile growing on his face when Beverly leapt into his arms. She embraced him fiercely, her words trembling as she spoke. “You take care of yourself, alright?” She said as she pulled back, placing a hand on either side of his face. Her hands rested atop the scars left behind by the clown that lined his skin at jagged angles. “I’m so happy you’re here with us, Stanny.”

Stanley’s smile widened. “Me too, Bev. Drive safe.” 

Beverly pulled back, grinning, before embracing Patty beside him. “You didn’t even know us before all of this,” She laughed as Patty hugged her back, “And yet you flew all the way here, listened to us talk about a crazy killer clown, _believed_ everything we said about the crazy killer clown, and helped us when we needed it most. Thank you, Patty, so much.” 

“When Stan first told me about you all,” Patty smiled as she leaned back and propped a hand up on Stanley’s shoulder, “He said you were his family. So I guess that made us family, too.” 

Blinking back tears, Beverly’s grin grew even wider. “Of course it does,” She agreed, her eyes shifting back and forth between the couple. “Please, keep in touch.” 

Patty chuckled as Stanley threw her a questioning glance, making a “so-so” gesture with his free hand. “I _guess_ I’ll keep in touch with you Losers,” He said in a pestered voice, his facade then melting away to reveal a genuine expression as a laugh broke through his lips. “ _Someone_ is gonna have to keep you all in check.” 

With one final laugh, followed by their upteenth embrace with the other Losers, Ben and Beverly passed through the doorway and down the hall. Richie watched them go, a bittersweet love pumping his heart, knowing he’d see them again...sooner than he knew. And so came an end to their reunion, another chapter of their lives coming to a bittersweet close. But Richie smiled as it did, more than ready to embrace his new chapter...the first in his life where he was truly free to write his own fate as he saw fit, no longer a puppet to anyone’s agenda but his own. 

For now, though, Richie chose to leave it blank, making sure to leave enough space for Eddie to join him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heal - Tom Odell 
> 
> Take my mind  
> And take my pain  
> Like an empty bottle takes the rain  
> And heal, heal, heal, heal
> 
> And take my past  
> And take my sense  
> Like an empty sail takes the wind  
> And heal, heal, heal, heal
> 
> And tell me somethings last  
> And tell me somethings last
> 
> Take a heart  
> And take a hand  
> Like an ocean takes the dirty sand  
> And heal, heal, hell, heal
> 
> Take my mind  
> And take my pain  
> Like an empty bottle takes the rain  
> And heal, heal, hell, heal
> 
> And tell me somethings last


	27. My Light, My Love

Mike was next to depart, leaving just a few short hours after Beverly and Ben. He’d put his space about the library for sale a few days prior once securing a temporary space to live in Florida. The place Mike found was only temporary, a small area to dump his things until he could find something more permanent. He received his first call about an interested buyer just minutes after Beverly and Ben left, and that they wanted to meet with Mike the following day to see the space. 

“I’ll stop back here as soon as I can,” Mike assured after explaining his phone call to the others as he gather his things that were scattered throughout Eddie’s room. “I just need to clear the space out for the buyers and get the rest of my stuff packed up before tomorrow.” 

“We’re not going anywhere for another few days,” Stanley reminded Mike from the chair beside Eddie’s bed, a half-read book in his hands. He slid his reading glasses off and placed them and his book off to the side. “We’ll see you soon.” 

Mike shot Stanley a firm nod before turning to Richie and Bill, who stood from their own seats and made their way over to him. Bill was first to pull Mike down into his arms, Richie chuckling at how much Mike had to bend over in order to do so. “Thanks f-for everything, Mikey,” Bill said, patting Mike on the back a few times as they swayed back and forth a bit on their feet. They pulled back, eyes meeting, before Bill continued. “I can’t imagine w-w-what this all m-must’ve been like standing in your sh-shoes. Without your dedication, your loyalty? W-we never would’ve made it this far. And I won’t ever f-forget that.” 

Tears rolled down Mike’s cheeks as Bill spoke, the astonishment and affection on his face very clear. Bill was right, and Richie agreed with every word he said. Richie remembered what Mike confessed to him on multiple occasions, about his guilt for putting the other Losers through such peril. An unpleasant memory flashed in his mind, short-lasting but nonetheless impactful. Richie saw the way Mike stood face-to-face with the monstrous clown as it sprouted those hideous spider legs and claws. Everyone else leapt out of the way, dodging It’s oncoming attack. 

But Mike never moved. 

He remained where he stood, agony ripping across his face as the words of the others struck him with such incredible force. Richie remembered yelling at him when the ritual failed, accusing him of lying to them all over again and walking them straight to their impending doom. And it almost did, for Mike, if Bill hadn’t bounded over to shove him out of the clown’s path just in time. 

Richie wished he could take the words back, knowing all too well how a single spoken phrase could break someone apart from the inside-out, shattering them with doubt and insecurity. But, at the same time, he had to remember the circumstances of their clash. It was the fear consuming their hearts that drove them all to say such harsh words, terrified of what they would do without a back-up plan to defeat the clown. Just as Mike’s concealment of the full truth wasn’t meant to hurt the others, Richie’s never truly meant for his words to inflict the guilt Mike now felt. 

The clown was gone now, though. 

Dead as a fucking doornail. 

There was nothing left in this world that could latch onto them so deviously, ensnaring their minds and consuming their fears like a ravenous predator starved for food. That lurking evil was finally vanquished, and the Losers were finally free to live the rest of their lives in peace...the unsung heroes who put an abrupt end to It’s reign of hatred. It was the second chance they never should have needed, a chance to re-forge the bonds they’d lost as they aged, separated and ignorant of their true past. 

A smile grew on Mike’s face beneath his steady flow of tears. “Thanks, Bill,” He said, pulling Bill into another quick embrace and squeezing him tight, “I love you, man.” 

Bill flashed a grin in return. “Love you, too.” 

When Mike turned to Richie, there were no words needed to be spoken. Mike could see it all in Richie’s eyes. Remorse for any of the guilt Richie of the others may have brought upon him, reassurance that reminded Mike he did the right thing, grief over the trauma they’d faced together down in the cavern, gratitude for helping save Eddie, a light tenderness that silently thanked Mike for being so accepting of Richie’s long-held secret...love for a life-long friend. The pair embraced, Richie’s eyes falling shut as he leaned into Mike. To be able to touch his friends without fear of trepidation provided Richie with a growing comfort he knew would last a lifetime. He’d lived long enough in the shadows of his own doubt, and Richie was finally ready to take the leap and embrace who he truly was...so long as he did it with his best friends, his _family_ , all at his side. 

Mike departed soon after, leaving behind the original four members of the Losers Club. 

Bill, Stan, Richie, and Eddie. 

All four of them having grown and matured in their own ways over the years they’d unknowingly spent separated. Yet, despite the lives they built apart, all of it felt so similar...like almost nothing had changed after all that time. The feeling was so natural, Richie almost didn’t catch it. He wasn’t the only one who’d noticed that small detail, it seemed, when Bill looked between them all and exhaled a tired sigh. 

One that he seemed to have held for over twenty-seven years. 

The remaining trio of Losers all gazed between each other, the same expressions of realization and bittersweet contentment written across their faces. And now here they stood, back where it all began. Just a group of friends who always managing to get caught in the middle of things they shouldn’t, but always making it out in the end. 

Together. 

No words had to be said, for Richie knew the others felt the same. Minutes passed before their stares slowly drifted towards Eddie, who still laid in the bed in the same unconscious, unresponsive state. Bill smirked, the exhaustion in his eyes remaining as he turned to Stanley and Richie from the other side of Eddie’s bed. “I wonder w-what his m-m-mom would’ve thought of all of this,” Bill remarked, trailing off. 

“Are you kidding?” Richie scoffed, “She used to take him to the emergency room for the tiniest scrape on his knee. She would’ve kept him in the hospital for a _year_ or some shit.” 

“And get restraining orders against all of us...which was what she looked like she wanted to do when Eddie broke his arm when we were kids,” Stanley added with a smirk. 

The idea of a restraining order had Richie thinking back to Beverly and her ex-husband, which eventually led him back to the thought he’d abandoned days ago, far too preoccupied to think anything of it again until now. 

Myra, Eddie’s wife. 

They’d discussed what to do with her the night Richie fled Eddie’s room when his heart stopped for the fourth time since their initial arrival at the first hospital. Richie remembered Beverly mentioning something about calling her once Eddie’s condition improved, most preferably after he woke up. And though Eddie’s condition had certainly improved since his transplant, there was still no sign as to whether the latter would come true. 

But they couldn’t just ignore calling Myra forever. She was his _wife_ , after all, and she had a right to know that Eddie was alright. It’d been a week since they all met back in Derry, and Richie suddenly grew nervous about waiting to call her any longer...afraid of what she’d do after finding out he was in the hospital the entire time. Richie shivered, Stan’s words repeating in his mind about the restraining order. Sure, it was a joke, but...if Myra was anything like Eddie’s mother, which he’d picked up was at least partially true, she’d be a force to be reckoned with. 

“Shit,” Richie breathed as he tried to stifle the wave of fear that rushed through him, dreading the call. “Bill, we still gotta call his wife.” 

“You haven’t called yet?!” Stanley asked, eyes growing wide with surprise. They’d mentioned Myra to Stanley the day prior while they caught up, but the topic changed quickly before Stanley could properly register what they’d said. “Does she even know he’s okay?” 

“...No, we were waiting until h-h-his condition improved, when we knew he’d...you know,” Bill replied, frowning as a focused expression crossed his face. Stanley caught on to his intended words, nodding in understanding as the man continued. “We c-can’t exactly t-t-tell her the truth. And we n-needed time to figure out a cover story.” 

“And do you have one?” Stanley asked as he raised a skeptical brow. 

“Y-yeah,” Bill replied, to the surprise of both Richie and Stan. Since when did they have anything to say that wouldn’t sound batshit crazy while also being realistic enough to deal injuries to Eddie’s body the same way the clown’s claw had. “Beverly and I s-s-stayed up late last night coming up with s-something reasonable.”

Bill re-told the story he and Beverly concocted, Richie only half-paying attention. He caught something about Eddie going on a visit to his hometown to help an old friend with something, getting there, staying with said friend for a week, losing his phone in the process and being unable to reply to calls or texts, and getting into a car crash and impaled by metal debris from a roadside railing. A story that would not only cover Eddie’s extended absence, but also his lack of replies to phone calls as well as the severe injuries sustained to his abdomen and chest. It wasn’t perfect, but it sounded believable enough, especially compared to what really happened.

“I’ll be here longer,” Stanley said once the elaborate story was finished, his gaze shifting from Patty’s to Bill’s, “Do you want me to call her?” 

Bill shook his head. “N-no, we already thought of an issue with that. You weren’t here for most of this, and if she were to find that out s-somehow she’d know we were lying. I p-pulled Mikey aside this morning and asked him to do it t-t-tomorrow, the day before you both leave. M-mike said he’d stay to tell her what happened b-before he leaves, assuming she’ll c-come here once she finds out Eddie’s okay.”

Richie stared at Bill, his mouth agape. They’d already thought almost all of this through, down to the smallest of details. At first, he felt forsaken for being left out of decisions regarding something that could affect Eddie’s recovery. But then Bill shot Richie a stoic glance that told him everything he needed to know. Richie had already been through so much, and nobody wanted to give him any more anxiety if they didn’t have to. Eddie wasn’t the only one who needed time to recover from their ordeals. 

A new concern popped into Richie’s head as he thought through Bill’s and Beverly’s plan step-by-step. It was something he didn’t even know he’d been dreading until the words finally left his mouth. “Do you think...she’ll try to transfer him? To another hospital?” 

Bill shrugged. “I d-don’t know, Rich. But I talked to Joey early this m-m-morning and asked her the same. She said Eddie should stay here, because of the intensive care he n-n-needs and because someone as weak as him shouldn’t be moved if they don’t have to b-be.” 

Richie nodded, a heavy sigh falling from his mouth as a small rush of relief flooded through his chest. All that mattered was that he knew how Eddie was doing every moment of every day, and that Richie could still travel back to him on the day he was to wake. 

_If_ he was to wake. 

Overwhelmed with new information, Richie made his way over towards Eddie’s bed and pulled up a chair. He sat for hours, staring at Eddie’s face and memorizing every detail and committing them to memory. It was like the day he left for college all over again, a sudden sense of fear washing over Richie at the notion of leaving Eddie behind while traveling so far away. He felt pressured to take in as much of Eddie’s presence as he could, no amount of time by his side ever feeling enough. 

Especially after losing so much time together. 

The mere thought of losing any more terrified Richie more than anything else. It was different with the others, and not just because of how he felt towards Eddie. Everyone else was _awake_ and _healthy_ , all of them able to speak on the phone whenever they wanted. But Richie couldn’t talk to Eddie, couldn’t see his face through a video chat. All he’d have was an update on his condition. And while Richie knew that was the most important thing to have, the idea of being so far away from Eddie still riddled him with an overflowing dread. 

Richie must’ve drifted off in his chair at some point or another, for he woke to find himself slouched against the back of it, arms crossed over his chest. His eyes fluttered open for a moment before another wave of tiredness struck him and sent them falling shut. That’s when he heard the two hushed voices from across the room, their volume so low Richie could barely make out their words. He didn’t move from where he was when he heard what was being said by Bill and Stanley, keeping his eyes shut and head slouched. Internally cringing at the idea of eavesdropping, Richie slowed and steadied his breathing and bore with it. 

“...wanted to so badly, but I just...couldn’t do it, no matter how hard I tried to convince myself that I could.” 

“Hey, come on Stan, d-don’t say tha-” 

“The scar on my hand from that oath we made as kids...it _burned_ when Mike called me. And the more I remembered, the more painful it got.” 

Silence. 

“...I didn’t want to break the promise I’d made, I really didn’t...but I was just so _scared_. So when I knew I couldn’t bring myself to come back to Derry...I did what I thought was the only thing I could to keep that promise. I made sure that everyone alive would be together to fight It, so you could win. I’m....I’m so sorry, Bill…” 

“That’s enough, Stan.”

“Bill-”

“I s-s-s-s-s-s-s-fuck, I s-said that’s enough.” 

A pause. 

“If anyone’s to b-blame for all of this, it’s m-me.” 

“...What?”

“Ever since we’ve gotten h-here, I feel like everyone’s been p-p-playing the blame g-game with themselves...feeling like it was _their_ fault we’re in this mess. But I w-was the one who dragged you down there to fight It after l-l-losing G-georgie, and I was the one who made everyone swear to come b-back when It did...”

A sniff. 

“Well that’s a fucked up way to look at it.” 

Another sniff. 

“Bill, everyone _chose_ to go to Neibolt with you to fight It when we were kids. Everyone came back to Derry on their own. Nobody forced them to do anything. They could’ve left whenever they wanted, but they didn’t.” 

“B-but if I h-hadn’t made that p-promise-” 

“Then we never would’ve come back, and we all would’ve forgotten each other for good...and It would’ve won in the end, killing so many more people long after we’re gone. Is that what you want?” 

A sigh. 

“N-no…”

“We all lived, Bill. We’re all here and we remember and we can live normal lives again. All of us, together.”

“But at what cost? Eddie, he...”

A pause. 

“Mike told me how you saved him, how you pushed him out of the way during the fight.” 

“Yeah.” 

“Do you regret it?” 

“What? No, of c-course n-not-”

“Then I think it’s a pretty safe bet Eddie doesn’t regret saving Richie, either. That’s what we’ve always done, isn’t it? We protect each other.”

The sound of a hand clapping against someone’s back. 

A weak chuckle. 

“L-l-losers stick together.” 

“That’s right. Always.” 

Another sniff. 

“Thanks, Stan…” 

“Right back at you, buddy.” 

Richie stiffened as the room fell back into a heavy silence. A strange sensation overcame him, a twinge of both remorse and understanding. He hated hearing the pain laced so intricately in both of their voices, wishing he could wipe it away with a brush of his hand. Yet, at the same time, Richie felt an unexpected surge of...not quite relief, but...realization. It seemed, from everything he’d heard amidst conversation, that everyone faced their own form of guilt. Some way, and somehow, the other Losers all blamed themselves for something that happened in the distant or recent past that led them all to this point. 

Damn, Stanley was right. 

That _was_ a pretty fucked up way to look at things, especially when your lives had been toyed with by a demon space clown for nearly three decades. None of their actions were to blame for what happened. Not even Bill’s. It may have been Bill that recruited everyone to go clown hunting in the first place, but it was the clown itself that forced them to turn to such drastic measures. If It had never entered their lives, none of this would’ve happened. 

But it did happen. 

All of it. 

And, over time, Richie would have to come to terms with that. It could take days, weeks, maybe months, or possibly even years...but one thing Richie knew, something he couldn’t comprehend until his break in Eddie’s room, was that none of this was his fault. There was nothing wrong with him, and nothing that the other Losers did that led them here. It was all the clown’s fault, nothing more, nothing less. 

But the clown was dead. It could never, _would_ never, come back. 

And Richie would never let himself forget that. 

He made sure of it. 

Richie stayed where he was, waiting to move until he heard the sound of footsteps approaching him from the side. He shifted at the sound, sucking in a deep breath to hint that he was awake. Sitting up in his chair, Richie slowly opened his eyes before reaching up to rub them with a finger beneath his cracked glasses. “Shit,” He muttered, glancing around the room to find Stanley standing on the other side of Eddie’s bed and Bill adjacent to his chair, peering down at him. “What time is it?” 

Bill smirked, glancing down at his watch. “About time to head back.” 

Stretching his arms with a nod, Richie stood from his chair. His eyes fell to Eddie as he slipped past Bill to grab a few of his things. A nervous shiver always crept along his back as Richie glanced his direction, no matter how many he did it. There was always that tiny, miniscule, fraction of hope that maybe, just one of these times, Richie would look over at Eddie to find him staring back. 

It was a wish he longed for than any other, a pang of sadness filling his heart when he recalled he’d be leaving tomorrow. They had so little time left, the chances of Richie’s wish coming to light dropping exponentially by the minute. 

With a sigh, Richie stole one final glance back at Eddie as he made his way into the hallway where Patty was waiting for them. She looked up from her phone, offering him a warm smile as Stanley and Bill followed closely behind Richie. Then they left, their group now halved in size compared to the previous day. 

And tomorrow, the same would happen again. 

Richie didn’t feel ready to leave, not by any means. If he could stay here with Eddie and let the hours slip by as they piled into days, maybe even weeks...Richie wouldn’t have minded at all. Not when it meant being at Eddie’s side. The trip to the hotel was as blurred and hazy as their hike up to their rooms. Richie recalled none of it, unsure of how he’d even gotten back, taken his outer layers of clothing off, and gotten in bed without struggle. 

Bill helped Richie clean his wound that night in the kitchen, Richie having to describe exactly how Ben did it so he wouldn’t mess it up. It took all of thirty minutes, but Richie was eventually re-bandaged with fresh medication and gauze coating his arm. It barely hurt anymore, almost nothing compared to the pain that still seared his arm the night prior. Sleep found him quickly despite the accidental nap he’d taken in Eddie’s room less than an hour prior. Richie welcomed it with warm arms, desperate for an escape from his worry about their imminent departure. He slipped into darkness as the faces of the other Losers all flashed in his mind. Becoming lost in Eddie’s soft smile, Richie found himself drifting into a state of deepening sleep and soothing dreams. 

The knock on Richie’s door the following morning came far too quickly, the dull hours of the night having passed in what felt like minutes. He’d been up for a while now, scrolling through his phone under the covers of his bed. It wasn’t his dreams that woke him, no, definitely not. Richie couldn’t pinpoint the exact memory he’d dreamt about, only remembered flashes of his friends’ smiling faces as they walked along the trail beside the Barrens as children. What _did_ wake him up was the utter dread that pooled in his core and threatened to send him into a panic. 

Richie and Bill were leaving _today_. 

He’d already been dreading it, but now that the day was here, it felt _way_ too fucking soon. Eddie had only gotten his new liver a few short days ago, his health improving but his body still weak from the physical trauma inflicted by their fight with the clown. Richie had been careful not to let his hopes grow too high, all too aware of how things could shift and go downhill so quickly. 

Like the clap of two hands...or the popping of a balloon. 

Exhaling, Richie did his best to reign in the storm raging in his stomach as he approached the door to his room. He paused once more upon grabbing the cool metal handle. Despite his own anxieties looming in the crevices of his head, Richie felt no other presence. No sign of the clown, the entity that’d come so close to eating him alive by turning his own fears against him. The tranquil sensation grounded Richie enough to flip his wrist and pull open the door. 

“Hey,” Bill said from where he stood in the hallway, wearing a sad but knowing smile as he stepped into Richie’s room. “R-ready to go?” 

“Uh, yeah,” Richie replied as he scooped his own bag off the floor and dropped it into the hallway. He turned, throwing Bill an unsure glance as he stalked to the other side of the room and lifted Eddie’s suitcase onto the bed. “I didn’t wanna just leave all his shit here, so I was thinking about taking it all with us. My own bag is small enough to fit as a carry-on on the plane, so I could bring Eddie’s stuff as my own luggage.” 

Bill’s expression softened. “That’s...a good idea. I’d forgotten about his s-stuff.” 

“Dude, how? I’ve been borrowing Eddie’s stuff almost all week,” Richie chuckled, wheeling the suitcase into the hall to place it beside his bag. “I ran out of clothes on, like, our second day here.”

“Huh,” Bill huffed, staring at the suitcase with an intriguing glance. “I _knew_ something w-was different about your clothes. N-now I finally know what...”

Richie shrugged. “Yeah, _my_ clothes aren’t boring.” 

“Eh, I’m g-gonna wait and trust Bev’s word on that,” Bill chuckled as he helped lugged both of their things towards the front door of the suite. 

After one final sweep of all the rooms to ensure they hadn’t forgotten anything, the pair stepped out into the hall for the last time, letting the door swing shut and lock behind them. They found Stanley and Patty waiting for them in the lobby, and together the small group helped load Richie’s rental car with all of his, Bill’s, and Eddie’s luggage. Richie had used the time to distract himself from the lurking thoughts that raced through his mind. He let Bill drive to the hospital but let himself have control of the music. With the windows rolled down, Richie blasted the first radio station he could find and angled his face towards the wind that shot in from outside. The cold breeze was refreshing, the sensation giving Richie a new wakefulness he hadn’t felt in days. Richie and Bill were leaving, and Eddie was going to stay behind. 

A reality that had yet to truly sink into Richie’s mind, his guilt about departing preventing him from accepting that his time with Eddie, for now, was almost at an end. 

“I just did my rounds on Eddie’s floor before you arrived,” Joey said as she met them in the lobby and led them all the way to Eddie’s room. She knew Bill and Richie were leaving today and would want to feel reassured that Eddie was in good hands, and that he’d be safe and well-cared for here. “He’s really improving. His jaundice is nearly gone, his lungs are regaining some strength now that his grafts have started to heal, and his liver is pumping out any toxins at a really high rate. I think he’ll finally have regained enough of his strength for us to go back in and take a look at his spine. We repaired what we could of it when he arrived, but we had to contain the bleeding in his old liver before we could finish.” 

“You’ll message me the day you do that surgery, right?” Richie asked nervously as he shoved his hands in his pockets. 

“Of course,” Joey answered, directing a small smile towards Richie to calm his nerves. She stopped after reaching Eddie’s doorway just moments later, turning to let the others through first. 

Richie hung back in the hallway, taking a peek inside Eddie’s room as he pulled Joey away from the door a bit. “Listen,” He said with a hushed voice, “I know you talked to Bill about sending some updates about Eddie, but I want to know _everything_. Even if there’s no change at all, I just need to know that he’s still okay. Can you do that for me?” 

Joey stared deeply into Richie’s eyes, her own expression unreadable by Richie. She was a quiet type, often hanging back in the hallway to give the group as much space as she could. But with the number of hours she worked, and the brief glimpses she probably caught every time she passed Eddie’s room...she probably knew a lot more about them than what she let on. “Yes,” Joey replied, her eyes serious, “Of course.” 

“Thank you, Joey,” Richie sighed, the relief in his voice evident. He paused for the briefest moment before launching himself forward and pulling Joey into another warm embrace. “Seriously, thank you, so fucking much for never giving up on him. Thank you, thank you, _thank you_.” 

Joey smirked bashfully as the pair pulled back. She gave Richie a few firm pats on the shoulder, having to reach up above her head to even get to that height. Richie chuckled when he caught her standing on her toes to do so. “I...don’t even feel like I can take the credit, in all honesty.” 

“Why not?” Richie asked with a frown. 

“By all medical standards,” Joey stated as she threw a glance towards Eddie’s bed through the doorway. She stared at the man in a trance-like state, unblinking. “...Eddie should be dead. He lost over a third of his blood, his heart stopped four times, he got punctured through the _center_ of his abdomen and needed an organ transplant, his brain was so deprived of oxygen that I...I didn’t think he…”

Richie remained silent as Joey let out a heavy sigh before turning back to face him. 

“...yet here he is...alive...and his condition isn’t just stable, but it’s _improving_ ,” Joey marveled, the astonishment in her tone taking Richie aback. 

He knew Eddie’s case was probably one of the worst some of the doctors here had ever seen, but to see that look of amazed bewilderment in Joey’s eyes spoke worlds to him. Eddie was truly a lucky, lucky, lucky man. Richie knew the truth as to why, his mind flashing back to the moment he and the other Losers tore the clown’s scared, beating heart into nothing but shreds. And with its death, the power It had drained from both Eddie and Stanley suddenly returned with a rejuvenating, instantaneous force that turned the tide of their battle for good. 

Of course, Richie couldn’t tell her that. So instead he just nodded observantly and listened to Joey’s wonder of Eddie’s remarkable recovery with great intent. “Well, I think you’re just being modest,” Richie offered with a growing smile, raising his eyebrows expectantly from behind his cracked lenses. “You saved him, Joey.” 

Joey smiled again, her smile mixed with a wave of sadness as she stared back. “I’ll take good care of him for you while you’re gone. Promise.” 

“Yeah, I know,” Richie said as his smile continued to widen. “Hopefully it won’t be too long until I see you again.” 

Joey cocked her head, brows furrowing. 

Sighing, Richie continued, his voice sincere, “The second Eddie shows _any_ sign of waking up, anything at all, I’ll be on a plane within an hour.” 

With an understanding nod, Joey stepped back and gestured for Richie to go and join the others inside. “Then I hope to see you soon, too.” 

Richie watched Joey step away. She offered him another smile, one full of both comfort and reassurance. Waving a hand in the air to show Richie that her fingers were crossed tightly, Joey turned and strode down the hall. Once gone, Richie stepped into Eddie’s room and took the empty seat next to the side of his bed. 

An unnerving sense of guilt coursed through Richie as he lifted his gaze to rest of Eddie’s face. He didn’t know how he could do it. To return to a normal, everyday life while knowing Eddie was still an entire world away, asleep on a bed from which he may never wake? Richie didn’t think such a feat was possible. 

Richie _loved_ Eddie, so fucking much. 

He loved the man laying before him more than anything else in this world, and being forced to live even a single day of his life without Eddie there with him felt like a cruel torment. Richie blinked back tears as his fearful eyes stared at Eddie’s closed ones, silently pleading his best friend to open his eyes with every fiber of his being. The rational side of his thoughts reigned him in, warning Richie to not let his hopes grow any higher than they were. 

Eddie could wake up tomorrow. Or maybe in a week. Or maybe longer. 

Much longer. 

The doctors just didn’t _know,_ and the only comfort Richie had was that subtle gleam in Joey’s eyes as she stared at Eddie with a fixated awe. The sight of such pure astonishment on her face gave Richie the assurance he needed to be able to step away from Eddie’s bed, and eventually out of the room. 

But not yet, though. Just a little while longer. Not yet. 

Richie heard voices of the others from all around him, but their sounds were blurred and too difficult to distinguish. In this moment, all that mattered was Eddie. The way the late morning sun shone into the room, flooding the bed with a natural golden glow that picked up the perking color of Eddie’s skin. The way Eddie’s chest slowly rose and fell with the clicks and beeps of the machines that helped him breathe. The way Eddie’s unkempt hair dangled over his forehead and the pillow, its dark color shining as it caught the sun’s light. 

The way Eddie’s hand lay open on the bed, beckoning Richie to take it in his own and hold him tight. 

So Richie did. 

Eddie’s hand felt warmer than it had on prior days, but he wasn’t sure if that was his improvement or because of the pools of heat forming on Eddie’s bed as the sunspots danced between the leaves of the trees outside. Cupping Eddie’s hand in both of his own, Richie pulled his fists upward and rested his closed lips atop it. He knew the others were in the room, that they could see him. And this time, there were no voices in Richie’s head to pry him away from the man he loved. There was no shame left to hide. 

Letting his eyes flutter shut, Richie found himself falling into the deepest pits of his memories, places he hadn’t even remembered existed. 

Richie could see the face of the young boy he’d met at school. He was so small, very short for his age, but he certainly made up for it in volume and energy. From the moment he saw the kid blow up at someone for not washing their hands, Richie knew he wanted to be his friend. Within a few weeks, the two were inseparable. His name was Eddie Kaspbrak. And within a few months, along with Stanley and Bill, the Losers Club had officially been established. 

It was the start of a family Richie would learn to cherish for the rest of his days. 

As his memories shifted, Richie saw the same boy standing in a circle with the rest of the Losers. They held their hands out, one by one, as Bill reached forward and sliced their hands with a piece of broken glass. Richie remembered watching Eddie in shock as the boy willingly let Bill slice his hand with glass that was smeared with dirt and other peoples’ blood. He remembered how Eddie fought so fiercely in the sewers, always being the first to look out for the others whenever they got separated from the group. Such a resolute loyalty was not so easily uncovered. 

It made Richie’s heart race in his chest, even though he would never fully understand why until he’d grown a bit older. 

Richie remembered how much Eddie grew as they moved on to high school. Not just physically, but also a person learning to overcome their fears in order to pursue their endeavors. Just as Eddie stood up to his mother when they needed him to help save Beverly at Neibolt, Eddie held his ground when his mother refused to let him join the track team. He looked her in the eyes, his determination unwavering, as he told her all the terrible things he’d go do instead if he wasn’t allowed to run. The things he said terrified his mother so much, she had no choice but to let him try out for the team. Not only did he qualify, but he _shined_. 

There used to be absolutely _nothing_ Richie enjoyed about running. Nothing at all. But then Eddie made the track team, and Richie found himself attending every single meet to cheer his best friend on. 

Richie adored watching Eddie run. 

He would never get over the expression on Eddie’s face whenever he passed by, so full of drive and exhilaration and adrenaline and focus and pride and power. Eddie’s form was a picturesque display of the rewards of hard work and perseverance, the strength and control he had over his body immaculate. The boy always laughed when Richie said it, but he swore that Eddie’s feet always floated an inch off the ground. 

He’d never seen Eddie look more free than he did on that track. 

And after going their separate ways, losing their memories of each other as they went, Richie lost sight of the boy who’d meant so much to him growing up. It wasn’t until their return to their hometown of Derry over twenty years later did Richie finally regain that sight while he stared at the cursing, flailing hypochondriac from across the table with yearning. 

Richie never stopped loving Eddie, ever. 

As the Losers descended deep into the depths of Neibolt house, preparing for the second battle with the clown, Richie glanced over at Eddie and was met with the same eyes he’d grown to love when he was young. He stared at the man who stood a ways away from the entrance to the cavern as he eyed it with blatant horror. 

_You guys, I can’t do it...I can’t. You saw what happened up there. I was gonna let you die. I just...fucking froze up! If you let me go down there with you, I’m gonna get us all killed!_

Richie remembered the panic in Eddie’s voice, the way he trembled and sucked in sharp breaths of air after taking another hit from his inhaler. Eddie looked the same way Richie felt, but he wasn’t about to let Eddie know that. Instead, Richie pulled him close, pried the inhaler out of his hands, and looked Eddie dead in the eyes as he reminded him of all the times he’d showed the great strength he so often hid beneath his built-in cowardice. 

His eyes never leaving Eddie’s, Richie spoke of all the times he stood up to his fears. He knew, deep down, that person was still buried within him somewhere. All Richie had to do was awaken it again. And as Richie spoke of Eddie’s fearless fight with the clown when they were kids, the times he so courageously stood up to his mother, and countless more memories all the way up to that same day when Eddie stabbed Bowers with a knife he’d pulled out of his own face. 

Richie admired Eddie’s bravery with such vigor. 

He was _envious_ of it. 

Richie had never been brave, not like Eddie. He’d let the clown win all those years ago, allowing It to ensnare him in its inescapable web. But Eddie? Eddie possessed more strength than he ever seemed to realize, constantly afraid of the world around him yet always the one to fight it head-on with a vicious passion whenever he or his friends’ were ever in danger. Richie never understood how Eddie had always been so blind to such a steadfast gift, and no matter what he said, he never seemed to believe him. 

But Eddie could move mountains if he wanted to.

_You’re braver than you think._

_Alright...thanks, Rich._

The clown was dead now. It was never coming back, and Richie would never forget that. So what was stopping him from doing the same as Eddie now? To face his fears head-on and and rise up against the growing dread that filled his heart so rapidly? Nothing. Nothing, because Eddie wouldn’t want him to be afraid, just as Richie had told him those few days ago down in the cistern. 

_You’re braver than you think._

Opening his eyes, Richie stared down at Eddie once again, his heart jumping as a wave of adrenaline flowed down his body and woke him up from his daze. He still held Eddie’s hand at his chin, letting the warmth of their touch calm the nerves that still tensed inside him. He swallowed when he glanced at the watch on his wrist to see that it was time for him and Bill to go. The drive to the airport was short, but they also needed to take care of their extra luggage to make sure the cases made it safely to Los Angeles on the correct flight. 

They would part for now, but not forever. This chapter in Richie’s life, the one he’d opened the moment he stepped back into Derry, it would never close. It was a part of him now, a treasured family that was lost along the way, but found and re-forged to become even stronger in the end. 

_You’re braver than you think._

Okay, Tozier. Get your shit together. 

Time to be like Eddie, and time to listen to what Stanley told you to do in his letter. 

Be brave, be true, and if you find someone worth holding onto, never, ever let them go. 

Those were phrases that Richie had struggled to embrace for his entire life, all thanks to the tortuous clown taking residence inside his head. But that part of his life was over now, a chapter now closed that Richie knew he would never open again. It was time to move on. Exhaling, Richie loosened his grip on Eddie, guiding his limp hand back onto the bed with extra care. He turned to face the others, who were all staring back at him with the same bittersweet expression. 

“Time to go?” Richie asked, already knowing the answer. Bill nodded, his mouth folding into a straight line as he turned to face Stanley and Patty. The three embraced tightly, already having said their goodbyes while Richie sat beside Eddie. 

Patty was first to break away, and the first to make her way over to Richie. She hadn’t spoken with Richie much since they’d first arrived, not with everything going on with Eddie. Yet, in the few conversations they exchanged, Patty made Richie feel so at ease, more so than anyone else he’d known in such a short time. Words did no justice to her kindness, and Richie was more than thrilled for his friend to have found someone so meaningful to spend his life with. Not to mention Patty’s open-mindedness and patience as she listened to their entire story about the clown in one sitting and actually _believe_ it. 

“You go take care of _yourself_ ,” Patty said quietly into Richie’s ear as they embraced, holding him tight. “Eddie’s got a lot of people watching over him, and now it’s time to let others do the same for you.” 

Richie blinked in surprise at Patty’s heartfelt words, shooting her a look of warm gratitude when they finally parted. “And, uh,” Richie smiled as he laughed, “Thanks for not thinking we were a bunch of lunatics or something.” 

Patty laughed in response, giving a gentle pat on the shoulder as Stanley walked up from behind his wife to stand in front of Richie. Their eyes met, a switch flipping instantaneously in Richie’s mind as they reverted back to their secret language of silent exchanges. Richie was first to speak, morphing his expression into one of such immense appreciation and affection that it nearly brought him to tears. _Thanks for showing up, Stan._

Stanley’s expression softened in response as his eyes flickered down towards their matching bandaged hands. A small smile crept onto his face before he lifted his gaze back up to meet Richie’s. _We fucked ourselves up pretty bad, didn’t we?_

Lips pursing in consideration as he lightly bobbed his head back and forth, Richie threw Stanley an amused grin. _Yeah, I guess we did._

A short pause fell between them before Stanley’s expression shifted to that of a more serious, concerned affection. His eyes narrowed just a fraction, only enough for Richie to catch it. _Remember what I told you._

With a heavy exhale and quick nod, Richie stepped forward and pulled his friend into one final embrace. After believing Stanley was dead for multiple days, every moment with him was so much more than a gift. It was a privilege, something Richie would never take for granted again. And the same went for Eddie, too, when he wakes up… _if_ he wakes up. 

“Talk to you soon, Stan the Man,” Richie muttered against Stanley’s shoulder, earning a content, exhausted sigh from his friend. The pair pulled back, hands still grasping each other’s arms when Richie’s face lightened once again. He pointed a finger at Stanley, a stern look crossing his gaze. “And stop showing people my fucking Netflix specials.” 

Stanley laughed, genuinely _laughed_ , as he patted Richie on the shoulder and winked at him. “No promises, Trashmouth,” His friend beamed back, “Text us to let us know you got back safe.” 

Bill stepped forward as another silence fell between the group. He reached down and hooked the strap of a bag over his shoulder, which contained all the things of theirs they’d left scattered around Eddie’s room. “Ready?” 

Richie nodded as he wordlessly followed Bill through the threshold of the doorway, only to halt in his tracks once he’d set foot on the hallway’s darker tile floor. “Wait,” He breathed, turning back into Eddie’s room, “Hold on.” 

Frown on his face, Bill made his way back to the doorframe and leaned against it. He said nothing as he, along with the others, watched Richie make his way back over to the side of Eddie’s bed. 

“Hey Eds,” Richie whispered gingerly. His voice carried a softness to it that he never used with any of the other Losers. “I have to go, but don’t you dare stop fighting, alright? We’re all waiting for you, when you’re ready.” 

Richie hesitated, shifting his weight back and forth between his feet. He let the tips of his fingers ghost along the palm of Eddie’s open hand as his eyes fell upon Eddie’s face. Even with all the machines, the tubes, the bandages, and the intimidating tube reaching down his throat, Eddie was still one of the most exquisite people he’d ever seen. Richie wanted nothing more than to pull Eddie into his arms, hold him close, and never let go until he gained enough strength to wake on his own. 

But for now, this would have to do. 

Heart pounding in his chest and eyes welling with passionate tears, Richie took another few steps closer towards the bed until both of his thighs brushed up against its edges. With one hand still ghosting over Eddie’s hand, and the other reaching forward to brush the stray strands of hair out of Eddie’s face, Richie leaned forward. He didn’t know what drove him to do it, and he didn’t care that everyone else was watching. 

All that mattered right now was Eddie. 

Bending forward, Richie brought his face down so it was almost level with Eddie’s, pausing for the briefest moment as his heart leapt out of his chest at the close proximity. A calm exhale fell from Richie’s lips as he leaned down and planted a gentle kiss on Eddie’s forehead. He hovered there for a moment, a single tear rippling down his cheek as he whispered one last goodbye. “See you soon, Eddie Spaghetti.” 

Suddenly feeling all eyes on his back, Richie felt an embarrassing burn in his cheeks. He kept his head down and averted his gaze as he turned back to face the others. “Okay,” Richie muttered, forcing himself to look up at Bill when he was first met with silence. “We can go.”

Richie studied Bill’s face, and where he expected to find judgement, he found nothing but an understanding smile. Bill walked forward and placed placed a reassuring hand on Richie’s shoulder as Richier offered a half-smile back, visibly relaxing under Bill’s gentle touch. It was Bill’s affectionate expression that gave Richie the courage to look over towards Stanley and Patty, who both stood wearing the same unjudging expressions. 

A relief like no other washing over him, Richie glanced back over towards Bill to see him putting on his reading glasses to check something on his phone. There was a glare, but it looked like the Maps app on his phone was open on the screen. “Do you know where you’re going?” 

“Of course I d-do,” Bill stuttered before throwing an annoyed look at Richie, sounding offended. 

“Oh yeah?” Richie asked, swiping Bill’s phone out of his hand and studying its contents, “How do we get to the interstate from here?” 

“We just g-go down here, turn left, and, uh,” Bill paused, second-guessing himself, “S-shit...was it turn right, next?” 

“Nope,” Richie replied, satisfaction laced in his amused tone. He dragged his fingers across his phone screen, eyeing the best route his phone had selected for them. “It’s a right turn, _then_ a left turn.” 

“Yeah, okay, w-whatever,” Bill groaned, shooting a glance at Richie, “Are you g-gonna be like this the entire drive to the airport?” 

“Well considering you’re driving and I’ll be the one in control of the phone,” Richie said, tapping away at Bill’s phone as he adjusted the settings of the GPS, “You bet your ass I will, Billiam.” 

Stanley chuckled loudly from behind them. He raised a hand to wave a final goodbye as Richie and Bill passed through the doorway once more and rounded the turn into the hallway. Bill rolled his eyes at the nickname, but smiled while falling into step beside his friend. “Beep beep, Richie.” 

“That’s what the car horn is for, coward.” 

Passing through the sliding glass doors of the hospital’s main lobby, Richie sucked in a deep breath of fresh air and held it as long as he comfortably could. He exhaled slowly as he and Bill walked towards the distant red car, backing in the cool breeze against his face and the warm sun that beat down on his exposed skin. The sensation caused a new elation to whirl inside him as he thought back to that moment beside Eddie’s bed. 

_Keep fighting, Eds._

For just this one, single moment...Richie let the building hope inside his heart overflow and fill the rest of his body to the brim. For just this brief instant, Richie let himself believe that Eddie would wake up. 

_I’ll see you soon._

That he would soon look Eddie in the eyes, overwhelmed with a new bliss as they started writing the next chapter of their lives at each others’ sides. 

_Eddie, my love._

That Eddie would survive this.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My Light, My Love
> 
> All my life I’ve waited for the better days  
> Now I find I’ve, wasted most my life away  
> Waiting, wanting, more
> 
> Time keeps moving  
> Away from here, away from me  
> I keep losing, sight of the better things  
> My friends, my family  
> Your love the light, my heart the seed
> 
> My love, it grows  
> My love grows  
> My love, it grows  
> My love grows
> 
> Oh my father, oh my mother  
> Oh my sister, oh my brother  
> Oh my family, oh my everything
> 
> Oh my friends and, oh my lovers  
> Oh my sisters and, oh my brothers  
> Oh my family, you are my everything
> 
> You’ll never know just what you mean to me
> 
> Be still the voices in my head  
> That reason me to sin  
> Lord lay my demons now to rest
> 
> See, my love it grows  
> You ask me how I know  
> See, there’s a voice inside my heart  
> Oh my love, it tells me so  
> There’s a voice inside my heart  
> Oh my love, it tells me so
> 
> And my love, it grows  
> My love grows  
> My love, it grows  
> My love grows
> 
> Can you hear it?  
> Oh, the Love is on the way  
> Oh the Love is on the way  
> Oh the Love is on the way!
> 
> And there’s a song in my heart  
> When it sings, oh, it sings for today
> 
> When it comes  
> We’re gonna call it by it’s name  
> We’re gonna call it by it’s name  
> We’re gonna call it by it’s name!
> 
> When we die  
> We will leave just as we came
> 
> See, for you, my love, I’d wait  
> For all my days  
> For you, my love, I’d wait  
> For all my days
> 
> Be still the voices in my head  
> That reason me to sin  
> Lord lay my demons all to rest
> 
> See, my love it grows  
> You ask me how I know  
> See, tere’s a voice inside my heart  
> Oh my love, it tells me so  
> There’s a voice inside my heart  
> Oh my love, it tells me so
> 
> My love, it grows  
> My love grows  
> My love, it grows  
> My love grows
> 
> We all want the same thing  
> A picket fence, a diamond ring  
> A life worth living  
> A love worth giving away
> 
> See, we all want the same thing  
> A picket fence, a diamond ring  
> A life worth living  
> A love worth giving away
> 
> A heart that sings for today


	28. Doomed

The first week brought distractions. 

By the time Bill and Richie drove to the airport, boarded their flight, flew across the entire length of the country, picked up their luggage, and drove back to Bill’s home...an entire day had passed. It was dark when they pulled into the driveway, the midnight sky above twinkling with far fewer stars compared to the remote skies of Maine. The pair were both exhausted from the journey, both of them ready for bed despite the three hours they’d gained while hopping time zones. 

The house’s interior was just as stunning as the exterior, full of wide glass windows and modern-styled furniture and art. It was sleek, clean, barely looked like anyone even lived there at all. In other words, it was the complete opposite of Richie’s apartment. It was strange to think how close Richie and Bill must of been when Richie had shows around here, not knowing the other was just a short car ride away. The same went for Eddie and Beverly, who both unknowingly lived within biking distance of each other for so long. 

It was certainly a surprise for Audra when Bill returned home with a man she’d never met or heard of, her husband claiming to be good friends with the stranger since childhood. Bill hadn’t told her much about where he was headed when he left the film set so suddenly following Mike’s call. All she knew was that he needed to go back to where he grew up to help out a friend. She seemed nice enough, Richie figured, but he was far too deep in a fatigued haze to make a proper judgement. 

After sitting down to eat some quick microwave meals, the pair made their way upstairs, Richie with his small bag in tow over his shoulder. Bill led him down a long hallway to show him the guest bedroom, which even had its own private bathroom connected directly to it. Richie strode in and tossed his bag on the floor at the foot of the bed. He turned, hands shoved in his pockets, as he shot Bill a jet-lagged but thankful look. “Thanks for, uh...letting me stay with you for a bit.” 

“It’s n-no problem, Rich, really,” Bill smiled as he backed out the doorway and grabbed the doorknob. He made to shut the door, squeezing in a quick “Get some rest” before it firmly clicked shut. 

Alone once again, Richie let himself sink onto the bed without even taking off his jacket. It wasn’t until his head hit the pillow did he remember Stanley’s request for one of them to text and say they’d made it back safe. Richie slid his phone from his pocket and typed up a quick message, already half-asleep.

**Trashmouth (Me!):**  
mafe it back.tired. in bedgoodnght

**Stanford Urine:**  
...Are you drunk?

 **Stanford Urine:**  
Either way, glad you made it back safe. Keep in touch.

Richie didn’t even hear the chimes of his phone as Stanley’s replies came through. He shifted slightly, getting more comfortable on the bed, before drifting off into a deep sleep that would caress him in its welcoming arms until late afternoon of the following day. 

It took a few days to get adjusted to the new temporary living space. Richie slowly unpacked his things as he needed them, and left them sitting out once he was done. He also took over washing all of his own clothes, along with the decent-sized pile of clothes of Eddie’s that had piled up in his suitcase. It’d taken an entire day to wash everything, dry them, and neatly fold them back into the nice piles Eddie had them originally placed in. Richie smiled when he once again uncovered the fanny pack, running his hand across the front as if he were dusting a relic. 

As the week passed, Richie put in a great amount of effort to keep busy. It helped keep his mind off of his growing worry over Eddie. Last week, while still in Maine, Richie could tame the fears that knotted his heart by taking a short ride over to the hospital to see him. But now, Eddie was probably a solid three thousand miles away. A distance of that length was about eight to nine hours-worth on a plane, and anything could happen in that short amount of time. 

Richie could no longer see Eddie whenever he pleased, so the only means he had to keep himself calm was the wait for Joey’s incoming updates. She didn’t send any the first few days, but Richie trusted her to message him the _moment_ anything changed with Eddie’s condition, good or bad. To Audra’s pleasant surprise, Richie had taken to helping her with groceries and other chores around the house as well. It was a huge help, since she’d been spending so much time at the film set working on some of the final scenes that Bill revised the day after returning. The couple were stunned when they came home one from the set one day to find Richie cooking an entire dinner for them all by himself. 

On the fifth day, Mike called. 

Bill answered the phone promptly, calling Richie downstairs with a loud shout. Poor Richie came tumbling out of his room, thinking the call might’ve been about Eddie, but he quickly picked up on who it was when he heard the name “Myra.” Waiting in a nervous anticipation, Richie paced back and forth as Bill spoke with a neutral tone on the phone. He practically pounced the man the exact second he finally hit the “end call” button. 

“How’s Eddie? Any change?” Richie asked far too quickly as he shot Bill a pleading look. “Did Mike call his wife? How’d it go? What about-”

“Whoa, slow d-down, Trashmouth,” Bill said, raising his hands in defense, “Take a breath.” 

Richie listened, inhaling a lung-full of air through his nose before slowly releasing it out his mouth. Bill was right, it helped. 

“Eddie’s okay, and Mikey s-said Joey planned on sending you an update t-today,” Bill started, knowing that’s what Richie would've wanted to hear first. “Mikey made it to Florida this morning, he’s m-moving his stuff into that place he found to stay in for a bit. And yeah, he c-called Myra-” 

“What did she say?” Richie asked, wasting no time. His hands shook as he fidgeted with them in front of his chest. 

Bill sighed. “H-he said she was confused, mostly, until he told her Eddie lost his ph-phone and couldn’t reply for a while. She was angry, not at Mike, it sounded like, but with Eddie. I think she was g-gonna fly in to see him.” 

Nodding slowly as he process the information, Richie continued to pace in beside Bill. “That’s...that...sounds like it didn’t go as terribly as it could’ve.” 

“Yeah,” Bill agreed in an empty tone, clearly deep in thought about the conversation. He watched Richie stalk back and forth atop the carpet with a concerned glance. “And w-we’ll know how it all goes, when Joey messages you.” 

The hours that followed passed in pure agony as Richie sat in a barstool at the counter. His phone laid on the granite countertop untouched, screen locked and unlit from the lack of notifications. Richie stared at the black screen with a great intensity, afraid that any loud breath or sharp movement would disturb the slumbering device. So he sat, unmoving, for hours on end. 

The sky grew dark through the skylight above, and Richie was about to give up for the night when a familiar name and phone number from Maine suddenly flashed across his screen. He received multiple texts all at once, each one a novel in length and split into a few smaller portions for ease of sending. 

**Joey (Maine):**  
hi richie. sorry i took so long to get back to you, busy week. eddie is doing well. his grafts are fully healed and his liver is functioning properly, no complications. yesterday we thought he finally had enough strength for exploratory surgery, so we opened him back up to take a look at the damage to his spine (1/3)

 **Joey (Maine):**  
we tried to repair what we could when he arrived, but had to make some quick fixes when he started to crash on the table, and we had to close him up before we could finish. one of our top neurosurgeons performed the surgery and he said there was still some significant damage to his lower thoracic/upper lumbar region (2/3)

 **Joey (Maine):**  
hes still just as lucky as he was before. whatever penetrated him missed most of his spine by less than a centimeter, it struck him at an angle. but, you should still know, that taking damage to those areas can lead to paralysis of the lower half of the body. it doesnt always happen, but theres a significant chance due to the severity of eddies injury. but again, we wont know the extent of the neural damage unless he wakes up (3/3)

 **Joey (Maine):**  
oh and his wife is here???

**Trashmouth (Me!):**  
it’s okay i know how busy you must be

**Trashmouth (Me!):**  
what happens if he wakes up and cant feel a part of his body can you do surgery

**Trashmouth (Me!):**  
like is that reversible or permanent

**Trashmouth (Me!):**  
and what did his wife say did you talk to her 

**Trashmouth (Me!):**  
sorry for all the messages im incapable of putting everything into a single text like a normal person

**Joey (Maine):**  
haha, its okay. and i really wouldnt worry yourself over it richie. we dont even know if hes paralyzed at all, he could wake up and be fine for all we know. and it could be fixable by surgery depending on where and how extreme the issue is.

 **Joey (Maine):**  
yeah i talked to her. she seemed pretty upset, she was in his room the last time i checked. said something about eddie running off and nobody telling her he got hurt????

**Trashmouth (Me!):**  
yeah, it’s a long story…

**Trashmouth (Me!):**  
we met up to help mike with something, eddie lost his phone before he got hurt, and none of us knew his wife and didn’t have her contact info...took a few days to track it down

**Joey (Maine):**  
yikes. gotcha

 **Joey (Maine):**  
she asked about transferring eddie to a hospital in new york, but i told her that couldn’t be done for a while. not with the number of times hes been operated on in the last week and now that we’ve seen the extent of his spinal damage. we dont want to move him any more than necessary and risk making it worse

**Trashmouth (Me!):**  
okay good 

**Trashmouth (Me!):**  
thanks joey

**Trashmouth (Me!):**  
keep in touch

**Joey (Maine):**  
no problem richie, talk to you soon. hope youre getting some rest

Richie exhaled a shuddering breath of relief as he tossed his phone onto the counter and let his head fall onto his arms. He took a few deep and steady breaths as the messages appeared in his mind once again. Eddie’s condition continued to improve, but the damage he’d taken near his spine was severe and could fucking paralyze him, apparently. But Joey said not to think about it. Don’t think about it. There was no point thinking about it if it’s not even going to happen. Richie thought about it anyways, though.

And Myra. She was there with Eddie right now, at this very moment, sitting where they had for the entirety of last week. Completely oblivious to their past presence in the room other than Mike’s. Christ, she even asked Joey if she could transfer Eddie to another hospital in New York, where she would probably lock him down to where Richie couldn’t see him. 

It’s okay, though. Joey wouldn’t let her. 

It took Richie ten minutes to finally will himself to stand from the stool and search the house for Bill. He found the man in his study, reading glasses on as he typed away on his laptop. Richie, knowing he would probably start rambling and never be able to stop if he spoke, wordlessly handed the phone to Bill and let him read the texts. A few minutes passed before he finished reading and looked up at Richie with a cautious yet hopeful expression. Richie did his best to return it. 

The second week brought comfort.

The knowledge of Eddie’s inability to be transferred to another hospital alone was enough to relax Richie’s tense muscles. It was all he had, the only connection to Eddie from all the way across the country. Even though everyone was aware of the fact that a transfer to another hospital meant cutting off the Losers from Eddie, nobody ever spoke of it. If Eddie’s wife were in charge of the transfer, she’d surely wipe their list of names from Eddie’s contacts and replace them all with her own. 

Richie knew she would because she’d already done so. Joey texted him the morning following their first text conversation, telling Richie that Myra had Richie removed as an emergency contact so she was the only remaining one. Blood boiling, Richie picked up a pillow a chucked it across the room, startling Bill as he entered with his closed laptop in tow. 

Now, Richie just had to hope that Eddie stayed at that hospital where Joey could watch over Eddie for them and keep the group updated. She was their source, so if Eddie moved to another hospital, all updates would be lost. 

Joey’s updates came more regularly throughout the week, just a short text here and there about Eddie’s condition. With every day that passed, the toxin levels in Eddie’s blood and brain continued to decline. By the end of the week his levels were back within a normal and acceptable range. His body had accepted the new liver completely and completely flushed out the dangerous buildup of chemicals his old organ left behind. Richie had never been happier to receive such news. 

Every text he received gave him a new rush of excitement. It seemed as though the worst parts of this shitshow were finally behind them, and that Eddie would finally have a chance to wake up and get a second chance at life. This time, with all the Losers at his side. 

The day Joey texted Richie about Eddie’s normal toxin level readings, it was just past five in the morning. Audra had already left for an early shoot, so Bill was alone in bed when Richie kicked the door open and launched himself onto the bed with all his might. Richie had barely seen Audra at all that week, actually. Bill yelped as he flailed under the covers before cursing to no end as Richie shoved his bright phone in his face. 

“What the h-hell, Rich? W-w-what time is it?!” 

“Shut the fuck up, Bill, just _look_!” 

“What could p-p-possibly be so importa-...oh. Oh, shit.” 

Once Bill finally managed to kick Richie out of his room, Richie quickly sent a screenshot of Joey’s text to the group chat they’d made with the rest of the Losers. His hands shook as he typed.

**Trashmouth (Me!):**  
eddie’s toxin levels are back to normal!!!!! :D

**Billiam Den-bro:**  
Go back to bed, Richie

**Trashmouth (Me!):**  
you first

**Billiam Den-bro:**  
Kind of hard after you literally just tackled me out of bed…

**Trashmouth (Me!):**  
It was important

**Stanford Urine:**  
BOTH of you go back to bed, it’s 2:00 AM here, for fuck’s sake.

 **Stanford Urine:**  
But thanks for the update on Eddie, good to hear.

 **Stanford Urine:**  
And Patty says “Hi! That’s great.”

**Trashmouth (Me!):**  
hi patty <3

The rest of the group responded in spurts as the day dragged on, the east coast finally reaching a reasonable hour for the others to check their phones.

 **Mike-al Hanlon:**  
That’s really great news, Richie. It sounds like they’re taking good care of him. 

**Bevvie Marsh:**  
wonderful news, rich <3

 **Ben Handsome:**  
Glad he’s improving keep in touch

The third week brought a dreadful hope. 

Richie spent most of the days with a sense of bliss, still reeling from the news of Eddie’s major improvements. 

Nothing major had changed the last few days, but that wasn’t necessarily a bad thing. Eddie’s ammonia and toxin levels had already leveled out to the range of a normal person and the grafts on his lungs and diaphragm had completely healed. They decided to leave the breathing tube untouched, however, because of his comatose state and the other parts of his body were still unstable. 

Joey messaged Richie saying that all of Eddie’s physical signs regarding liver failure were now gone, including the jaundice that once altered his skin so drastically. Richie had grown a bit worried about his brain activity after staying up late and reading about comatose patients on his phone. But Joey reassured him that Eddie was nowhere near braindead, and that he still had a lot of activity in his brain. 

From the outside it seemed like the only thing keeping Eddie from waking up was himself. 

There weren’t any new updates on Myra, either, because she’d returned to New York just a few days ago. After spending a little over a week at the hospital and multiple failed attempts to transfer Eddie to another hospital closer to their home, Myra was forced to leave. Her work only allowed her a single week off and she had to return to her home state to start work that next Monday. Joey told Richie all of it. 

“So,” Audra said to Richie one night as they made dinner together, “You grew up with Bill?” 

Richie nodded. Just as the week before, he’d barely seen Audra in the house at all. She started a new job almost immediately after wrapping on Bill’s film, and it took up most of her time. Her hours were wild, and she could be seen walking in the door at 3:00 AM one day and 10:00 PM the next. 

“Bill never spoke about his childhood much,” Audra frowned as she chopped some vegetables on a cutting board. 

Shrugging, Richie reminded himself to be vague with any of his replies. Bill informed him that he hadn’t told the truth to Audra about what really happened in Derry, afraid she wouldn’t take it as well as Patty did. Nothing about the clown or the terror it reigned on them in that town not once, but twice. He’d tell her soon, Bill affirmed when Richie started to question his choices, he just needed some time to think about how to say it all. But Richie still didn’t like it. Audra was his wife, he should be able to tell her anything. 

“You two were close?” She asked, turning to look at Richie with an unreadable expression. 

“Oh yeah,” Richie answered, fondly smiling down at the bowl of ingredients he was currently mixing. Faces of the Losers in their childhood years flashed through his mind and warmed his heart. 

Audra frowned again before turning back to her work. “Do you think it’s strange? How he never told me about any of you? Or anything about where he grew up?” 

“I, uh...I don’t-”

“Was it because of his baby brother?” Audra asked in a hushed voice, knowing Bill was working in his study. “I know he passed away there when he was young…” 

“Georgie?” Richie replied in the same hushed tone. He shot a glance towards the hallway leading towards Bill’s study before turning back to his stirring as he conjured the quickest fib he could. “Yeah, I guess that could be why.” 

Audra paused her work again. “...What happened to him?” 

“Bill, he...he never told you?” Richie asked nervously as he picked up the pace of his stirring. When Audra timidly shook her head, he panicked and decided to tell the truth. Not the _whole_ truth, but enough of it. “Uh...he went missing. Just disappeared one day while playing outside. Someone kidnapped him, and...they, uh...found his body in the barrens a year later.” 

The color drained from Audra’s face as she stared back towards the hallway with horrified eyes. Her hand shot up to cover her gaping mouth, tears welling in her glassy eyes. “I...I’m sorry,” She breathed, her gaze darting between Richie and the hallway, “Can you...take over for a bit? I just need a minute…”

Richie nodded sympathetically as abandoned his bowl and took the knife from Audra’s hand. He silently continued chopping the vegetables, the sounds of Audra’s footsteps rushing up the stairs and into the bedroom echoing through the house. She shut the door and locked it. At first, Richie wondered if he’d made a mistake telling Audra something so dark from Bill’s life. But if Bill was going to tell her about the clown, he guessed it was probably better for her to hear it in steps rather than all at once. 

The fourth week brought a declining faith. 

There was still no change in Eddie’s condition, nothing at all. The repairs made on his body through surgery had completely healed, or were very close to it. His liver and brain activity remained steady and constant at the same levels they’d been during the previous week. Eddie’s body grew stronger every day, yet he continued to show no sign of waking. 

But Richie refused to believe that this was the end. It’d only been a month, and Eddie had been through more physical trauma than twenty average people in their whole lives combined. It was like Joey had told him the day Bill and Richie left Maine. By all medical standards, Eddie should’ve been dead. The injuries he sustained were so extreme that he absolutely should _not_ have survived. 

Yet, here he was, trapped in a coma but _alive_. 

As the days passed, it became more difficult to keep the faith Richie had built over the prior two weeks. Joey’s updates, along with the Loser’s now very-active group text, were both the only things keeping him grounded to reality and to the realistic hope that Eddie’s body just needed a bit more time to recover. 

With Audra gone almost all hours of the day and Bill stuck on his outline due to a terrible case of writer’s block, Richie found himself sitting outside with Bill most days. They set up chairs on the small patio, a single table between them that held their drinks and some snacks. Bill protested the idea at first, but Richie eventually convinced him to help with the phrases for his stuttering. 

They spoke for hours when the kinder weather allowed, Richie sitting quietly as Bill read the same phrases out loud again and again. He’d recalled most of the exercises he used to do as a child to help and repeated them again. It didn’t seem to be helping at first until the long hours quickly grew into days. Muscle memory from high school seemed to take over after a while, though. Richie noticed a huge improvement by the end of the week, and he could see the joy light up in Bill’s eyes as he started to notice his own improvement too. 

“He thrusts his fists against the posts and still insists he sees a ghost...YES!” Bill beamed. He accepted a high-five from Richie with a laugh, his friend grinning widely back at him. 

“Told you you could do it, man,” Richie said as he gave Bill a firm pat on the shoulder, still grinning. 

“Thanks, Rich,” Bill replied, shooting his friend a grateful look for sitting out here with him for so many hours. He stared at Richie, eyes narrowing a bit as they caught the bright gleam refracting off the man’s glasses. The lenses were still cracked at the top. “Is there a reason you haven’t replaced your glasses?” 

“Hm?” Richie frowned, bewildered at first. It took him a moment to realize what Bill was talking about. His eyes crossed a bit as they looked up to focus on the crack before he reached up and slid the glasses off. “Not gonna lie, I...kinda forgot that was there. I guess I got used to it.” 

“We could go get the lenses replaced, if you want. I’ve got nothing going on t-tomorrow,” Bill offered, reaching over to take Richie’s glasses to inspect them himself. The frames were absolutely fine, somehow. It was just the one lens that had the large crack streaking across it. 

“You _never_ have anything going on, Billiam,” Richie retorted as he reached out in an attempt to swipe his glasses back. “I see why you wanted me around.” 

“Yes I do,” Bill shot back, holding Richie’s glasses further out of his reach, “I’ve been writing my next book!” 

“Well damn,” Richie shrugged. He squinted his eyes to try and make out the man next to him, only able to see a big blur in the shape of a person. “If I’d known being a writer was just lounging out on your patio all day I would’ve become one ages ago.” 

“It’s all a part of the process,” Bill joked with a smirk, ignoring Richie’s snicker from beside him. He held up Richie’s glasses towards the sky, eyeing the cracked glass against the sun’s fading light. Reaching up, he slid the frames onto his face and swayed in his seat. “Holy shit, R-rich,” Bill said as he immediately ripped the glasses off and handed them back to Richie, “I couldn’t see _anything._ ” 

“What, you think I wear these for fun or something?” Richie scoffed, putting the frames back on and facing Bill as he chuckled to himself. It felt so good to laugh so freely with his friend after so much time locked away in his own self-inflicted isolation. He never took a single moment of it for granted. 

The fifth week brought doubt. 

Richie wished he could call Eddie and speak to him. He knew the conversation would be unreciprocated and silent, but being able to let Eddie know he was still there for him meant more than anything. 

When they first entered the house on Neibolt as kids, on that one day when Eddie broke his arm, Eddie had gotten split from the rest of the group. The clown lured Richie away right after, taking the form of Eddie and calling him into the room full of clown figurines. It was horrifying. Feeling so alone and defenseless around a creature he thought couldn’t be killed. 

Even now, his memories dull and still fuzzy in some places, Richie could remember Eddie’s screams from downstairs so vividly. They tore through his mind as the vision on the young boy flashed in his mind. He’d been trapped alone with the clown, the monster approaching him as he panickedly clung to his broken arm. Richie never saw fear in his eyes quite like he did in that moment ever again, not even as adults. 

After that day, Eddie hated being left alone. It terrified him to no end. Richie was the first to catch on to the detail just a few short weeks after fighting the clown in the cistern. He’d left Eddie alone in the Clubhouse for a minute one day while they were hanging out, only to return to a trembling boy curled into a tight ball on the floor. Richie didn’t hesitate to tell others about it later that day and, together, they all took turns making sure somebody was always at Eddie’s side. 

The fear eventually faded as they aged, but Eddie’s instinct to flee from isolation never truly left him. Just like Richie’s fears never really left. 

Richie wanted to be there for Eddie, not just on the phone, but in person. He wanted to rush to his friend’s side, grasp his hand in his own, and whisper words of encouragement to him as though Eddie could still hear them. Richie had lived one of Eddie’s old fears for a majority of his life, and he’d never inflict such a horrendous torment on anyone. Not even his enemies. 

Except maybe Bowers. Fuck that guy. 

But Eddie was the least deserving of all. His courageous, selfless, heroic act landed him in a hospital for weeks while Richie walked away unharmed. Well, unharmed in a physical sense, at least. It wasn’t fair by any standard that Eddie remained stuck in Maine while everyone else moved on with their lives without him. 

Eddie was alone there, and Richie despised the very thought of it. 

There was still no change in his condition, much to Richie’s dismay. He’d received the text from Joey late one evening, after Bill had fallen asleep in the bedroom and Audra on the couch hours later. Richie was almost asleep when his phone chimed and lit the dark room with the bright light of his screen. 

**Joey (Maine):**  
eddies brain activity is still the same, which is good. that means his body is getting stronger. the repairs we did near his spine are sensitive areas so they still need more time to fully heal. his liver is still working to full capacity. no signs of waking, though, not yet.

**Trashmouth (Me!):**  
thanks for the update, joey

**Trashmouth (Me!):**  
can i ask you something?

**Joey (Maine):**  
of course

**Trashmouth (Me!):**  
we didnt miss anything, right? there wasnt anything else wrong with him that could be keeping him from waking up?

**Joey (Maine):**  
no, we didnt miss anything

 **Joey (Maine):**  
i know how frustrating this must be, to see his condition improve so much but still not wake up. some people need more time than others to heal. he might just need more time, or he might not. theres no way for us to tell

**Trashmouth (Me!):**  
okay

**Trashmouth (Me!):**  
thanks joey

The sixth week brought unease.

Richie didn’t know what to make of the noise from down the hall at first. It was very late at night, far too late for Bill to still be awake on normal terms. He heard the distant, muffled voices of both Bill and Audra in their bedroom. 

They sounded angry. 

Trying to tune out the sound of what sounded like a loud but private conversation, Richie laid back in bed and thrust the comforter over his ears. Audra had barely been around the last month, still working on the same project she’d started once Bill’s was complete. Because she was gone so much, Richie barely saw her at all, let alone with Bill. 

But ever since that night in the kitchen when Richie admitted what happened to Georgie to Audra, the woman seemed...distant? Richie couldn’t really put an exact word on it. All he could sense was that something was really bothering her, he heard it in her voice even before he told her about Georgie. As a louder shout suddenly echoed down the hall, Richie made a mental note to watch the pair more closely...and to confront Bill about it if he suspected anything really wrong. 

A loud ringtone woke Richie very early the following morning.

Richie had kept in contact with his manager over the weeks that followed his departure from Maine. Their conversations mostly consisted of short, concise phone calls about where Richie was and what he was doing. 

Richie was annoyed by the calls at first, convinced that his manager only called so much because he wanted Richie back to work as soon as possible. Bill had convinced him otherwise, though, offering the suggestion that maybe his manager actually cared about Richie’s well-being and wanted to make sure he wasn’t putting himself in any unsafe situations. 

Bill was probably right, even though Richie had a hard time bringing himself to believe it. 

Things changed, however, when his managed called much earlier than he normally did. The ringing of Richie’s phone woke him with a start. Richie jerked upright in bed, eyes darting around the room as he recalled where he was. He fumbled over to the nightstand, slipping on the new glasses Bill bought for him at the eye doctor’s office in an outlet not far from the house. With improved eyesight, Richie read the name, then the time. 

Why the fuck was Steve calling at six in the fucking morning?

“...Hello?” Richie asked groggily, his eyes dropping shut as his body tried to go back to sleep. 

“ _Rich_ ,” Steve said quickly, “ _Did you see my text_?” 

“No...do you know what time it is?” Richie yawned, “I was asleep, man.” 

“ _Go check_ ,” The man snapped. 

Richie opened his mouth to respond, but a beeping sound made him pull his phone away. His screen had locked, and his manager had hung up on him. Frowning, Richie entered in his passcode and opened the unread text that sat at the top of his notification list. He felt his stomach drop when all the message contained was a link to an article from the Hollywood Reporter. Holding his breath, Richie tapped the link with his finger, waiting an eternity for it to load before the title finally popped up. 

**_SPOTTED: Comedian Richie Tozier Seen in L.A. Outlet Following Worrying Breakdown On-Stage and Mysterious Disappearance_ **

Cursing under his breath, Richie scrolled down the page to find a slightly-blurry photo of him someone must’ve taken when he and Bill went to the eye doctor for new glasses. The picture featured Richie’s face as he looked over his shoulder towards Bill, who wasn’t in the shot. His hands were shoved into the front pockets of one of Eddie’s zip-ups and his glasses, still cracked, were slightly crooked on his face. 

With a dreadful fear ripping through his chest, Richie opened his Twitter app and searched his own name. Dozens of articles popped up in his feed, all of them featuring the same terrible photo of him. It wasn’t until Richie read the other article titles, however, did he understand why his manager was so freaked. 

**_Richie Tozier Spotted for the First Time in Weeks, and He’s Not in Good Shape_ **

**_Comedian Richie Tozier’s Long-Awaited Return: Were Drugs Involved?_ **

**_TOP 5: Mostly Likely Reasons Behind Richie Tozier’s Disappearance and His Delayed Return_ **

**_Richie Tozier, Comedian, Photographed in Public for the First Time Since Mental Break and Postponement of All Future Shows Indefinitely_ **

**_Was Richie Tozier in Rehab? Here’s What We Know_ **

Fuck. 

FUCK. 

Okay, Richie’s manager definitely had a valid reason to call him. Hands shaking, Richie returned to his own profile and tapped the button to compose a new Tweet. He desperately didn’t want to do this now, knowing that his supposed return from the dead would only draw more attention to him. But having so many articles out there about him with such ridiculous claims? And to not address them at all? That would be even worse. Exhaling, Richie quickly wrote two posts, not letting himself over-think either, and hit send. 

> **Richie Tozier** _@TrashmouthTozier_  
>  Just woke up, what did I miss? Lol

> **Richie Tozier** _@TrashmouthTozier_  
>  Okay but in all seriousness, please don’t worry about me. I’m fine. Yes, I had a panic attack onstage. Yes, I’m taking a break for personal reasons. No, I’m not on drugs. Did I miss anything?

The seventh week brought concern. 

Richie’s tweets blew up overnight, prompting even more news pages to post about his sudden reappearance in Los Angeles. His manager hadn’t called him back since that one early morning, so Richie assumed that meant he approved of the tweets. The man was probably just happy that Richie finally came out of his long bout of radio silence on social media. 

An hour after Richie showered and got ready for the day, two rings from his phone filled the room. Upon seeing Beverly’s name, Richie snatched his phone up almost immediately to reply. When Richie first flew out with Bill, he made sure to call Beverly every single night like she’d asked. As time dragged on, and both of their lives got a bit busier, it slowly dwindled down to a few text conversations per week. 

**Bevvie Marsh:**  
i just saw the articles

 **Bevvie Marsh:**  
are you alright, sweetheart?

**Trashmouth (Me!):**  
yeah im okay

**Bevvie Marsh:**  
is there anything i can do?

**Trashmouth (Me!):**  
no, not really. but thanks

**Bevvie Marsh:**  
okay, let me know if you think of something

**Trashmouth (Me!):**  
_Read at 08:56_

**Trashmouth (Me!):**  
i just wish eddie was here

**Bevvie Marsh:**  
 _Read at 09:01_

 **Bevvie Marsh:**  
me too, rich

**Trashmouth (Me!):**  
_Read at 09:03_

**Trashmouth (Me!):**  
how are you and ben

**Bevvie Marsh:**  
good! he helped me get everything in order before i finalized the divorce. i’m gonna stay with him for a while and work on setting up my business.

 **Bevvie Marsh:**  
his home is so pretty!

**Trashmouth (Me!):**  
oh yeah im sure the view is great

**Trashmouth (Me!):**  
;)

**Bevvie Marsh:**  
 _0578.jpeg_

 **Bevvie Marsh:**  
it is :)

Richie reached up and tapped the small image in his messages to make it full screen. It was a photo taken from inside the house looking out through a window. Ben walked across the grass, shirtless, as he carried a large bag of mulch over his shoulder. Damn, Ben was _cut_. Richie was about to send a reply when Bill knocked at his door, reminding him that breakfast was ready for them downstairs. He’d made pancakes. 

“M’sorry about the articles, Rich,” Bill said as he shoved a large bite of food into his mouth. “Y-you okay?” 

“Yeah, don’t worry about it,” Richie replied as he pushed a piece of pancake around with his fork. “I should be asking the same to you, I guess.” 

Bill frowned. “What do you mean?” 

“I, uh,” Richie bit his lip, a nervous pang rushing through him as he carefully pieced his next phrase together, “I heard yelling last night from down the hall...was everything okay between you two?” 

“Oh,” Bill sighed, his eyes falling to his plate, “Yeah...that.” 

Richie waited as he studied Bill’s expression carefully. He could see Bill piecing words together in his head as he contemplated something important. Heart picking up pace at the silence that fell between them, Richie took another nervous bite of his breakfast. 

“We got into a b-bad fight before I left for Derry,” Bill finally admitted quietly, abandoning his food and letting his hands fall onto his lap. “We’d already been fighting about the ending to the movie...she sided with the studio over me and I got m-mad at her. We both...said some nasty stuff to each other. Then, after Mikey called, she didn’t want me going back to Derry. I wouldn’t tell her much about why I had to go and she said she didn’t feel like she could t-trust me…”

Richie didn’t respond. 

“And last night, she got angry again and said I’ve been keeping so many s-secrets from her...and that she feels like she doesn’t really know me anymore,” Bill hesitated. His eyes flickered up to meet Richie’s with a conflicted expression. “She mentioned what you told her about G-g-georgie.” 

“Listen, man,” Richie started, placing his fork down and lifting his hands, “I’m sorry I-”

“No, you didn’t do anything wrong,” Bill interrupted him before he could finish, “It just has me thinking...that maybe what she said about us last night might be r-right…”

“What did she say?” Richie asked nervously. 

“That our relationship w-wasn’t built on trust,” Bill answered sourly as he folded his arms across his chest and scooted his chair back. “And that I don’t trust her enough to open up about everything that happened, stuff from Derry she doesn’t know about at all…”

Flinching, Richie was drawn back into the familiar dark depths of his own mind. As someone who was led to believe that he couldn’t trust anyone for so many years of his life, including himself, Richie knew how it felt to be surrounded by people you’re closest to...yet unable to feel completely open around them. “...And do you?” 

“Do I what?” 

“Trust her enough to tell her about _everything_ ,” Richie answered. Something that brought Bill so much trauma both during his childhood and adulthood shouldn’t be bottled up inside him. Yeah, sure, telling your significant other that you and a bunch of your old friends went back to Derry to fight a killer supernatural space clown was a not an easy or simple feat. But forcing yourself to live your life beside them without having that safe space to open up in? Well...Richie knew just how detrimental that could be. It would eat Bill alive from the inside-out. 

“I,” Bill breathed as his eyes seemed to dart in every direction, an evident panic growing inside him and threatening to break free, “I...d-don’t know.”

A few minutes of silence passed before Richie picked up his fork and began to eat again. He swirled a piece of pancake in syrup and brought it to his mouth. “Hey,” He said, mouth full, “I can, you know, head back to my place if you two need some space...”

“No, no,” Bill said, shaking his head. 

“It’s really not that big of a deal,” Richie fought back, feeling guilty for living in Bill’s house during what he just discovered was a considerably vulnerable time. He could probably get a pretty decent-priced flight to Chicago from here. 

“No, you s-stay,” Bill pushed as he finally began to eat again as well, “I really do enjoy the company, and besides, your apartment is probably swarming with paparazzi right about now.” 

“Oh, shit, yeah you’re probably right,” Richie mumbled as he stabbed another pancake with his fork. “Well, just lemme know if you change your mind, I don’t want to make things awkward…” 

“It’s no problem, R-rich,” Bill said again, a small smile appearing on his troubled face, “Don’t worry about it, alright?” 

The eighth week brought fear. 

Richie stared at the most recent text from Joey for a long, long time. The words burned a new fear into his brain as panic swelled within his stomach. 

**Joey (Maine):**  
still no change. eddie’s wife called a few more times over the past week or so, trying to get him transferred to new york again…

 **Joey (Maine):**  
with eddie’s condition, he would have to be transported by helicopter...by vehicle is too long and too unpredictable despite his improvements. It’s very costly and since it’s not an emergency we wouldn’t be able to cover most of it. i don’t think she can afford it, so eddie’s going to stay here for his recovery. 

The image of Eddie being taken away in the helicopter in Derry flashed through Richie’s mind and twisted his gut. He’d never felt so scared in his entire life than he did that night...forced to sit back and watch Eddie’s life slowly drain from his body as they raced him towards the hospital in the back of the car. 

If that were to happen again, under very different circumstances, Richie wouldn’t be able to follow from the ground in his car. Not this time. He’d hit a barrier unable to be crossed, watching the helicopter grow smaller in the distance as it carried Eddie away to a new undisclosed location. Even if he did find Eddie again, there was no telling what Myra would do to keep them all locked out. In her eyes, they were the ones that dragged Eddie to Maine and nearly got him killed.

**Trashmouth (Me!):**  
im glad he’s staying with you 

**Trashmouth (Me!):**  
you’ve all taken such good care of him there

A new fear consumed Richie of losing Eddie in more ways than one. Whether it be Myra figuring out a way to get Eddie transferred to a New York hospital, or losing Eddie to his persisting coma from which he would never wake. The possibility of being taken away from Eddie suddenly felt far too real and way too close for comfort.

It was in that moment, for the first time since leaving Derry, Richie pictured what his future would be like without Eddie at his side. 

Even though Stanley helped him keep a level and realistic head when it came to Eddie’s chances of waking up, there was still that subtle, persistent hope that swelled in Richie’s heart every time he laid eyes on Eddie’s face. A hope that Eddie wouldn’t only wake up, but fully recover and walk out of the hospital ready to start a new chapter of his life with the other Losers at his side. 

But that was a fool’s hope, Richie supposed. 

Reality struck Richie like a truck going full speed. It’d been two months since their departure from the hospital. Two entire fucking months since Richie saw Eddie in person, held his hand, kissed his forehead, and told him that it was all going to be okay. That he just had to keep fighting and, when Eddie was ready, they’d all be there waiting for him. 

Richie wasn’t sure what he’d do if Eddie never woke again. These past two months have been nothing but sitting around and waiting. Sure, he helped Bill with his writing, did some chores around the house to keep busy, and did a few productive things like getting new glasses and arranging plans with his manager. But in all that time, it always felt like Richie was holding his breath. Waiting for that one destined phone call from Joey, telling him that Eddie finally woke up. A chance to finally release his tension and exhale a heavy, relieved breath. 

If Eddie never woke, Richie wasn’t sure if he’d ever be able to fully breathe again. What was the point of living his life if Eddie wasn’t there to enjoy it with him? Richie sighed from where he laid in bed, letting himself drift into a restless sleep as the familiar yells echoed down the dark hallway of the upstairs. They were fighting again. 

The ninth week brought despair. 

Richie’s mind was inner turmoil, looming with conflicted feelings that clashed so loudly it made his head ache. A new, growing terror bubbled inside him as he felt the strangest inkling deep within his core. It was a sensation he’d grown all too familiar with back in the hospital in Maine. 

Richie felt himself sinking back into the dark place of his thoughts...and he was so fucking scared. 

He didn’t want to go back. 

The last time he’d fallen into that endless abyss, Richie almost cost himself his sanity and the friends he held most dear to his heart. It’d taken every ounce of his strength to fight back the demons and to regain control of his own mind and soul, a control that he refused to give up so lightly ever again. But now, as his hope dwindled into a faint flicker of a dying candle flame, Richie panicked. 

It was late when Richie pulled out his phone and hurriedly typed up a text message, seeing it was almost one in the morning when he hit the send button. That meant it was only ten at night on the east coast.

**Trashmouth (Me!):**  
stan 

**Trashmouth (Me!):**  
stanley 

**Trashmouth (Me!):**  
please don’t tell me you’re already asleep

**Stanford Urine:**  
Well if I was asleep, I wouldn’t be anymore. What’s up?

**Trashmouth (Me!):**  
stan i don’t know what to do

**Stanford Urine:**  
About what?

**Trashmouth (Me!):**  
i can feel myself slipping stan

**Trashmouth (Me!):**  
all those thoughts are coming back 

**Trashmouth (Me):**  
i dont want to go back

**Trashmouth (Me!):**  
im scared

Richie stared at his unread texts as he felt his stomach twist into a tight knot. He never would’ve sent such texts to any of the other Losers before their final fight at Neibolt. But so much changed inside him within that short length of time...and it wasn’t all bad. Richie trekked to hell and back with his eyes blindfolded and hands tied behind his back, but he survived. He not only survived but he learned how to outfight the lurking entities in his mind and win. Ever since that moment, Richie no longer saw the point and closing himself off from his friends, not when he truly knew they cared so much about him, secret or not secret.

 **Stanford Urine:**  
_Incoming call…_

Richie jumped when his phone started to ring loudly in his hands, his thumb shaking as he reached to swipe the answer button. Exhaling, he brought the phone to the side of his face and spoke in a quiet, reserved tone. “Hey.” 

_”Hey, Rich,”_ Stanley said, his voice cracking from the static on the other line. 

Silence. 

_”Tell me what’s going on.”_

Richie sighed. “I don’t know, I...I can just feel it all coming back...like it did at the hospital.” 

_”Feel what? Tell me.”_

“I just hate not being there,” Richie admitted as he ran a distressed hand through his hair. He sat on the edge of his bed now, feet rest on the carpet as one of his legs bounced anxiously. “I fucking _hate_ being here and acting like everything’s normal when it’s _not_.” 

_”Remember what Joey said, Rich? They don’t know if-....when Eddie’s gonna wake up. Do you really think he’d want you to just sit there waiting for him that entire time?”_

Richie flinched at Stanley’s swapped words, his mind flashing back to when Beverly had done the same thing during the car ride back to the hotel one night. He shivered, but continued. “I don’t know how much longer I can keep doing this, Stan. It’s eating me up inside, knowing he’s all the way across the country and alone. I don’t care if he wouldn’t want me there that whole time, I _want_ to be there with him.” 

_”Well, you should care, Richie.”_

Silence.

_”Do you really think Eddie would be happy knowing that, after he sacrificed his own life to save you, you’d spent the entirety of your precious time wasting away beside him?”_

Shit. He had a point. 

Richie sniffed and let out a soft cry. His eyes stung as his vision slowly started to blur. “I...I don’t think I can move on without him, Stan.” 

_”You have to, for Eddie’s sake. It might not happen right away, and it’s okay if you need to take some time to accept the reality that Eddie may not wake up.”_

“I…” Richie started, another cry leaving his mouth, “I don’t know how to do that.” 

_”Just go out and live, Rich. It’s what Eddie would want, isn’t it? For you to be happy.”_

Silence. 

“Yeah,” Richie eventually breathed, his heart clenching as he forced himself to squeeze the word out. He felt the familiar burning sensation in his eyes again, knowing that if he kept talking, he’d break completely. “Hey, uh, I gotta go,” Richie sniffed before letting out a shuddering sigh, “Sorry for bugging you.” 

_”Cut the bullshit, Richie, don’t ever apologize for texting me when you need help. I’m glad you did.”_

“Okay,” Richie said. He felt his throat close up as he spoke, a fiery sting ripping down its length all the way to his stomach. It burned him from the inside-out. “Thanks, Stan.” 

_”Of course, buddy. I’ll talk to you soon.”_

A loud sob burst from out from Richie’s charred throat the moment he hit the button on his screen to end the call. He must’ve been louder than he thought, because there was a firm knock on his door just moments later. When he didn’t receive an answer, Bill opened the door to find Richie sobbing at the edge of his bed. His eyes widened as he rushed over and knelt down in front of his friend. 

“What’s wrong? Is it Eddie?” Bill asked with a panicked tone. He placed one hand on either of Richie’s knees and leaned down to catch his eye. 

“No, no,” Richie said quickly, a pang of guilt striking his heart for scaring Bill like that, “Well, yeah, but no. He’s fine, no change.” 

“Then w-what is it?” Bill questioned, expression softening as the panic dissipated from his eyes. 

A tense, heavy sigh fell from Richie’s mouth. More tears spilled down his face, but he didn’t move to wipe them away, even after they started to streak across his glasses. “I’m just scared, Bill,” The man admitted timidly, his voice so vulnerable and weak, “I’m so fucking scared for him.” 

Bill’s expression dropped as he watched Richie fall apart before him, sobbing as he pulled his arms in towards his chest. He wordlessly stood and sat beside Richie on the bed before raising an arm and wrapping it firmly around his friend’s shoulders. Bill pulled Richie close, eyes falling shut when Richie leaned over to bury his face in Bill’s shoulder and tightly clutch his torso. Reaching up to place a comforting hand on Richie’s head, Bill replied in a whisper. “I’m s-scared, too.” 

The tenth week brought nightmares.

Bill and Audra’s verbal arguments became so frequent they were happening nearly every night. With every fight, Richie would bury is head into his pillow and cover his head with a blanket as adrenaline pulsed through his veins. He hated it, feeling caught in the middle of their life despite barely seeing Audra around. Bill insisted that he stayed, though, so he did. 

One night, the yelling abruptly stopped. 

Then a door slammed shut. 

Richie didn’t get up to investigate, deciding it was best to wait until morning since the commotion seemed to have stopped. It was late morning when Bill came downstairs with bags under his unfocused and bloodshot eyes. He told Richie what happened, knowing the man probably heard most of it already. 

Audra wanted to take a break. 

Bill said he didn’t really know what that meant, but he had a dreadful feeling about what would come out of it. Audra said how she was tired of being lied to, and how she felt Bill was still closing her out even after she expressed her concern for their trust. Like Bill wasn’t even trying to fix the problem. 

That’s when Bill decided to tell Audra everything that really happened in Derry, and why he had to go back all those weeks ago. Or try to tell her, at least. He tried to tell her the _full_ truth about what happened to Georgie, and how they all got sucked into a living nightmare that would haunt them for the rest of their lives. But Audra wouldn’t believe him. She thought Bill was making fun of her for thinking she’d believe something so ridiculous and absurd. 

_I’m not one of your fucking stories, Bill!_ She’d shouted at him before grabbing a bag and throwing some essentials inside. As she strode out the room she told Bill she’d be staying with a friend for a while. Bill didn’t pursue her, and stayed in the bedroom until he heard the front door creak open and slam shut. And now, it seemed, that Bill needed Richie around just as much as Richie needed him.

The nightmares came back that night. 

Richie fell asleep within ten minutes of his head hitting the pillow, but the stress and confusion of Eddie’s unchanging condition and Audra’s sudden departure had taken their toll on Richie’s state of mind. Their lives just seemed to be getting worse by the week and, if he already felt this bad, he didn’t want to see what the upcoming weeks had to bring. 

Everything was just so _fucked._

_When Richie opened his eyes, he found himself surrounded by a world of darkness. Only a single light was visible in the distance. Walking towards the source, Richie strained his eyes to make out the figures in front of him. It wasn’t until he was a dozen feet away that he realized where he was._

_Before him laid Eddie’s hospital room, except it had no walls or windows. The familiar pieces of furniture laid unused around his bed with a slew of machines all lined up in a row. They beeped and hummed in the same monotone rhythm, Richie’s footsteps synching up with their beats as he approached._

_“Eddie,” Richie breathed, the ground beneath his feet slowly transitioning from a midnight void to pale tile floor. He picked up his pace as he neared the man, only to be stopped by an invisible force at the end of Eddie’s bed. Richie hit the wall head-first and yelped before falling back onto the ground with a loud series of thuds. “What the fuck-”_

_Richie stood and surged forward again. His chest seemed to smack right into a sturdy yet undetectable wall as the air got knocked out of his chest. Panic rose from the pit of his stomach as Richie tried to break through the barrier again with a forceful kick. “Eddie!?”_

_Another kick._

_“EDS! I’m right here!”_

_A few punches._

_“EDDIE!”_

_A full body-slam with a running start._

_”EDDIE, PLEASE!”_

_Richie sobbed as he pounded the glass with everything he had, throwing punches and kicks until his entire body tingled with a stinging pain. He rested his fists on the glass above his head, throat on fire and burning with every ragged breath that left his chest. “Eddie,” Richie choked, searing tears streaming down his face at a steady rate, “I’m right here, Eds. Please, Eddie, I...don’t leave me alone, Eds...please…”_

_That’s when he heard it._

_It was distant at first, a short ripple against the fabric of the unseen case that enclosed him. He would’ve missed it if it weren’t for the vibrations it sent through the barrier. The sensation sent a terrified chill through Richie’s form. His entire body tensed as it recognized the all too familiar presence of the being that once stalked the shadows of his mind, patiently lurking for the perfect moment to strike...when Richie was at his most vulnerable._

_As the clown’s laugh thundered through the void beyond Eddie’s room, Richie woke with a horrified scream._

The eleventh week brought desolation. 

Richie grew paranoid at the sound that raked his mind all those nights ago, barely able to sleep in fear of meeting its owner once again. He jumped whenever Bill spoke, and kept himself secluded in the quietest areas of the house. It wasn’t that different with Audra gone, since she was never really there much to start with. 

But Bill, though, his behavior was another story entirely. He was in about as bad of shape as Richie. Neither of them left the house much, except for when Bill went to the store to buy them more groceries. It’d grown much colder over the last few weeks, fall weather making itself known with chilly breezes and red-gold trees. 

Bill knew Richie was worried about something. He’d heard the man wake up screaming and came running down to his room. He found Richie panicking on the bed, his eyes darting around the room as if searching for something. Richie wouldn’t talk about it and insisted that he was alright, no matter how much Bill pushed. The man gave up, eventually, after Richie made it clear that he didn’t want to talk about his _multiple_ nightmares he’d had nearly all week. 

The pair spent most of their time lounging in the basement and marathoning movies. It was the best distraction they could come up with, and it gave both of them a chance to let their minds wander. 

It was late at night when Richie finally started to face the reality that Eddie may never wake up from his comatose state. It physically pained him to do so, but the exhaustion building up inside him weakened his defenses and allowed a new anguish to flood his being. The sensation it provided allowed Richie to numb the pain a bit and focus on what to do next. 

If Eddie didn’t wake up, where would he go? What would he do? He couldn’t stay at Bill’s forever...although, it didn’t seem like he’d be leaving anytime soon considering the horrific states they were both in. And when it came to performing again, Richie didn’t see how he would bring himself to do it. Every day was harder than the last, and with every passing hour Richie felt another fleeting fraction of joy be erased from his heart like ascending ashes of a flame. 

_Just go out and live, Rich. It’s what Eddie would want, isn’t it? For you to be happy._

Richie tried his best to repeat Stanley’s words in his head, to engrave them into his mind along with all the others he and Ben had so determinedly placed there. But without Eddie’s presence, without the comforting and grounding touch of his soft hand in Richie’s, the task seemed impossible. And even on the days Richie did manage to believe what his friend said, those words could only get him so far. 

It never made the pain hurt any less. 

**Mike-al Hanlon:**  
_6450.jpeg_

**Mike-al Hanlon:**  
It took a little longer than I thought to find a place and get situated, but I’m finally all moved in...and look who’s here! 

Richie opened the image Mike sent to the group and, for the first time that week, found himself wearing a tired but genuine smile. It was a selfie of Mike in his new home, which appeared to have a nice rustic theme with warm, inviting colors. Behind him stood Stanley, who wore a polite smirk and had his arm wrapped around the shoulders of a widely-grinning Patty. The sunlight that poured in through a window in the back, along with their short-sleeve shirts and shorts, reminded the others how much warmer the weather still was in the south. 

Opening his camera, Richie held out his phone and snapped a picture of him and Bill on the couch. Both of them were completely wrapped in blankets all the way up to their noses. Beside him, Bill pulled out his phone and opened his unread messages. 

**Billiam Den-bro:**  
Nice place, Mikey! Looks great!

**Trashmouth (Me!):**  
can everyone stop having such clean and nice houses it makes my apartment look even worse :(

**Trashmouth (Me!):**  
_2713.jpeg_

**Trashmouth (Me!):**  
also can you stop hogging the sun we’re COLD

**Mike-al Hanlon:**  
Thanks! And sorry Richie, I guess that means you’ll have to come visit!

 **Ben Handsome:**  
Wow! Send more pics for your favorite architect to see please? 

**Mike-al Hanlon:**  
_6451.jpeg, 6452.jpeg, 6453.jpeg_

**Mike-al Hanlon:**  
Here you go, Ben!

 **Ben Handsome:**  
Very nice, I approve

 **Bevvie Marsh:**  
did you decorate the whole house yourself, mike?? it looks so pretty!

 **Mike-al Hanlon:**  
Aw, thanks Bev. And yes, I did! Patty helped a bit, too, she has a great eye for it. 

**Bevvie Marsh:**  
also i hope you and patty are having fun, stanny! 

**Stanford Urine:**  
_0376.jpeg_

 **Stanford Urine:**  
:)

**Trashmouth (Me!):**  
nice bird! wanna see the bird i saw today?

**Trashmouth (Me!):**  
_2714.jpeg_

“Dammit Rich,” Bill muttered from across the couch as he opened the picture Richie just took of him flipping off the camera. Richie glanced over, afraid he’d pushed Bill a little too far today, but relaxed when he saw the small smile on Bill’s face.

This was something Richie had always excelled at...pretending he was alright in messages even when he wasn’t. He and Bill both felt like absolute shit, but even with his mind treading such dark paths, he was still able to joke around and make the other Losers laugh. That’s basically what his entire life had been before returning to Derry, hadn’t it? Burying his own emotions and using humor to cover it up during his performances? 

Richie sighed as he read the ongoing thread of messages as they appeared on his screen in live time. Everyone else seemed so happy, like they were enjoying their lives without the constant, growing worry of Eddie’s condition lurking in their minds non-stop. That must have been a nice feeling...one Richie knew he may never see. Not completely, at least. 

While Richie had started to come to terms with the possibility of Eddie never waking up, he’d also started to accept the strengthening reality that if that came true...Richie would never achieve the same happiness. All of the other Losers would eventually find that happiness if they haven’t already, leaving Richie behind and unable to cope with the loss of the person who saved his life in more ways than one. 

The twelfth week brought the call. 

**Joey (Maine):**  
_Incoming call…_

Richie shot a perplexed glance at his phone when he saw the familiar name flashing across his screen. He and Joey had strictly communicated by text the last three months since it was much easier to do with the wacky hours Joey typically worked. Heart dropping at the realization, Richie picked up the phone with a trembling hand and hit the answer button. 

Joey had never called before, let alone at five in the morning. He quickly prepared himself to hear the absolute worst, knowing that Joey wouldn’t call if there wasn’t any change. 

She was calling because something had happened with Eddie. 

“Joey?” Richie asked quickly, unable to breathe, “Is something wrong?”

“ _Richie, it's_ -” Joey started. 

“You never call,” Richie breathed, hands still trembling, “Is it Eddie? Is he-” 

“ _Richie_ -” 

“Is Eddie okay? Joey, I-”

“ _RICHIE!_ ” Joey nearly shouted, finally shutting Richie up. 

A few seconds passed, with the only sound on the line being Richie’s heavy breathing. He forced himself to take a moment to calm himself down and slow his racing mind before speaking again. “Sorry,” Richie sighed, his heart beating so loudly in his ears he could barely think straight, “What is it?” 

“ _Richie_ ,” Joey repeated, much quieter this time. There was something in her voice Richie couldn’t quite pick out, and he held his breath as he anxiously waited for her to continue. “ _He woke up_.” 

Silence. 

“What,” Richie snapped, eyes growing wide with panic. He must’ve heard wrong, the phone must’ve cut out for a moment. That...that couldn’t be right. “What did you just say?” 

“ _Eddie’s awake, Richie_ ,” Joey laughed from the other line, a newfound glee in her voice that Richie had never heard before. 

_Eddie’s awake._

“Are you serious?” You’re...you’re not fucking with me, right-”

_Eddie’s awake._

“ _NO! No, Richie. I’m serious_ ,” Joey said quickly, “ _He woke up just a few minutes ago_.” 

_Eddie’s awake._

Richie laughed as his breaths came out in even heavier heaves, nearly hyperventilating. His knees gave out beneath him and he collapsed to the carpet of his bedroom as an unmatched exhilaration burst within his body, threatening to break free. It took hold of him, its grasp so warm and welcoming, as it pulled Richie out of the dark pool he’d trapped himself into. 

_Eddie’s awake._

He felt like he was flying, rising up out of the void that swallowed him and back to the light he’d so shortly embraced back at the hospital. But now, he flew beyond that, higher into the clouds as an intense wave of euphoria enveloped him and flowed outwards from his chest. 

_Eddie’s awake._

The tears that welled in Richie’s eyes now flowed down his cheeks in a steady stream as he choked on the words he tried to say. His throat had closed up, making it even harder to suck in his sharpening breaths, as an overwhelming rush of adrenaline surged through his veins. 

_Eddie’s awake._

“H-he’s awak-ke,” Richie gasped between his panicked breaths. A joyous sob fell from his lips as he finally spoke those words aloud, the sensation lighting a spark in Richie’s heart that he hadn’t felt since the moment he’d first laid eyes on Eddie for the first time in over two decades. 

_Eddie, my love_. 

“ _Yes_ ,” Joey replied with another elated laugh, sniffing in the background. 

“Oh m-my god,” Richie choked out again, not sure if it’d been a laugh or a sob. Or maybe it was a bit of both. “Is this...is this-s r-real?” 

“ _Yes, Richie_ ,” Joey said again, her voice cracking with relief. “ _He’s asking for you_.” 

“Fuck, ok-kay,” Richie breathed loudly, trying and failing to calm himself down, “I can b-be on a plane in-n and hour, I’ll...I can text you right w-when we land…” 

“ _Okay_ ,” Joey replied. Richie could _hear_ the grin he knew she was wearing on her face in the soft chime of her voice. “ _See you soon_.” 

Within seconds of hanging up, Richie flew across his room in search of Eddie’s suitcase. His hands visibly trembled as he sloppily threw his clothes and toiletries into the bag until it was completely full of both his and Eddie’s things. Kicking the door open, Richie dragged the luggage down the hall and screamed, “BILLIAM. BILLIAM! GET THE FUCK UP, _BILL!_ ” 

“Richie, what the fu-” Bill started as he groggily swung open his bedroom door, only to stop when his eyes landed on the suitcase Richie currently tugged behind him. A disbelieving shock swept over his face as his gaze shot back up to Richie’s. 

“Bill,” Richie breathed, barely able to get the words out with how much his entire body shook with adrenaline, “Get packed. _And where the fuck are your keys?_ ”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And this mark's the end of Richie's POV, and the start of The Losers' POV's through Chapter 40.
> 
> Doomed - Moses Sumney 
> 
> Hollow one  
> With inverted tongue  
> From whence does fulfillment come?  
> When I expel  
> From this mortal shell  
> Will I die for living numb?
> 
> Am I vital  
> If my heart is idle?  
> Am I doomed?  
> Am I vital  
> If my heart is idle?  
> Am I doomed?
> 
> I feel you  
> But nobody else  
> Though you're someone I can't see  
> Yet you say nothing  
> Of the stoic suffering  
> That stirs lukewarm in me  
> If lovelessness is godlessness  
> Will you cast me to the wayside?  
> Well, I feel the peeling of half-painted ceilings  
> Reveal the covering of a blank sky
> 
> Am I vital  
> If my heart is idle?  
> Am I doomed?  
> Cradle me  
> So I can see  
> If I'm doomed
> 
> Am I vital  
> If my heart is idle?  
> Am I doomed?  
> Cradle me  
> So I can see  
> If I'm doomed
> 
> Am I vital  
> If my heart is idle?  
> Am I doomed?


	29. 99

Alive. 

His hand ghosted over his neck, drifting down across his chest. A thick, white bandage wrapped around the entirety of his abdomen, covering what remained of the piercing injury that tore through his skin. 

Eddie was alive. 

He jumped when his fingers brushed against the short layer of hair that now line his jaw and partially covered the fresh scar on his cheek where Bowers stabbed him. That’s right...three months had passed. He had a beard now. 

Fucking christ. 

Three _entire_ months. The time may have been nothing compared to the decades Eddie spent away from the other Losers, unaware of their past friendship and existence, but it stung just the same. The fleeting pictures in his mind of the fight at Neibolt were still so fresh, and trying to wrap his head around the fact that it happened three months ago proved to be a difficult task. 

“Hey,” A voice said from the doorway. Eddie whipped his head up quickly, spotting the same doctor from before. Except she wasn’t wearing a surgical mask this time. Her short hair reminded him so much of Beverly’s when they were younger, only it was a deeper red. What was her name again? Oh, right. Joey. 

“Hi,” Eddie breathed as he watched the young woman approach and take a seat by his bed. She placed her clipboard aside and leaned forward on her legs, intently staring at him with wide, gray eyes. 

“I know I’ve already introduced myself,” Joey said with a warm smile as she reached forward and offered Eddie her hand. He hesitantly took it. “But it’s so fantastic to finally meet you. I’ve heard so much about you.” 

It felt so remarkable to touch another human and _feel_ their warmth on his own skin. The dreams he’d lived through felt so real, but nothing else in it was quite as frightening as the inability to feel the heat of the sun on his skin...or the warmth of Richie’s lips on his. 

But this was real. 

He was here and he was _alive_.

Eddie blinked with surprise when he saw a few tears brimming at the corner of Joey’s eyes. “How did you-”

“Like I said,” Joey replied, seeing the question in the man’s gaze, “I wasn’t lying when I said you have very kind friends.” 

Friends…

...The Losers.

Richie.

“Did you talk to them?” Eddie asked frantically as he remembered why Joey stepped out of the room. “My friends, did you get ahold of them? Did you talk to Richie?” 

“Yes, I did,” Joey answered. Her eyes gleamed with joy, as if she were so genuinely happy about Eddie’s long-awaited return to reality. It felt so strange, seeing someone he’d never met before look at him like that. Joey chuckled when she continued, “I’m pretty sure Richie was already packed and out the door before I even hung up.” 

Eddie exhaled a tired laugh, flashing his teeth as his eyes fell with relief. 

“The others should be leaving soon, some of them are stuck at work until this afternoon,” Joey added with a shrug, “But they said they’ll leave as soon as they can.” 

“Good,” Eddie nodded, the reality sinking in that he’d be seeing his friends _today_. “That’s good.” 

Eddie would see Richie _today_. 

Joey beamed as her eyes still glimmered with tears. They never fell, though, but only welled in her eyes as she quickly blinked them away. “You’re very lucky, they all care about you so much.” 

“Yeah, I know,” Eddie laughed again, partly in fondness but also a bit of shock. This world _looked_ real, and it sure _seemed_ real. He was just having a very difficult time truly believing it, even feeling it. It was all so much to take in at once. 

A short silence fell between them. 

“In fact, you’re probably the luckiest person I’ve ever met...after everything you’ve been through,” Joey let go of Eddie’s hand and reached for her clipboard, flipping through a very tall and intimidating stack of papers. Her face fell a bit before she spoke again, but it still held the same softness it did before. “You probably have a lot of questions…”

God, yes. So many. Eddie remembered most of what happened leading up to their fight at Neibolt, all the way up through the moment he got stabbed by the clown. Then, it started to get blurry, his memories slowly growing more difficult to recover until it was just blackness. That’s when his dreams started. 

Eddie sighed, nodding. “I don’t even know where to start.” 

“Well, I’ve got some time,” Joey replied kindly, crossing her legs as she got more comfortable in her chair. She placed her clipboard in her lap and rested both of her arms across it. “I don’t actually know the exact context of your accident, your friends said it was a car crash.” 

Yeah, one hell of a car. 

“Richie packed your wounds so tightly that he nearly stopped your bleeding, and they got you to the closest hospital in Derry,” Joey said, her eyes never leaving Eddie’s as she spoke. She carefully watched for his reactions to every word she spoke, cautious as to not overwhelm him with too much at once. “They operated on you there for _hours_ until you were finally stable enough to put you on the helicopter that brought you here.” 

Eddie’s face drained of color a bit as he listened, horrified at the idea of Richie stuffing everyone’s dirty shirts into his open wound like that. He shivered, not wanting to imagine the sight of it. It must’ve been so terrifying for the others to see him like that. 

“By the time you got here, your heart had already stopped three times,” Joey admitted, flinching when Eddie’s eyes widened with terror at the words, “We got you into surgery and repaired as much as we could before you started to crash. After closing you up and getting you to your room, your heart stopped again...but we brought you back.” 

“...My heart stopped _four times_ ,” Eddie gaped, his heart ironically racing in his chest at the thought. It sounded like less of a question and more of a repetition of the phrase, as if trying to convince himself that what Joey told him was true. 

“Yes,” Joey added gravely, trying to rip off the band-aid as quickly as possible, “You sustained some of the most traumatic abdominal injuries I will probably ever see in my career as a doctor.” Eddie stared at her like she’d just materialized before him out of thin air. He was in complete and utter shock. “We grafted your lungs and diaphragm once seeing how severe the damage was, and they’re completely healed now. Your liver was far too damaged to save it, though, and you needed a transplant. We put you on the transplant list once we cleared the infection you’d picked up.” 

Infection?

Liver transplant?

...Did Eddie just hear all of that right? His eyes fell to his abdomen in concern as he muttered a quiet, “A liver transplant? I was that bad?” 

“You gave us a real scare, Eddie,” Joey said somberly, the shining expression on her face from before slowly fading into a more neutral one. “I’m not gonna lie, we didn’t think you were gonna make it there for a while...don’t tell Richie I said that.”

Eddie found himself smirking at the comment, his half-smile quickly fading at the idea of how much pain Richie and the others probably went through while he was out. Three months was such a long fucking time, anything could’ve happened. 

“You’re okay now, though,” Joey added quickly in an optimistic tone, “You got a new liver and its been working so great. All of your injuries are healing incredibly well considering the awful condition you were in when you first arrived here. Well, except..for-”

Heart dropping Eddie cut her off. “Except what?” 

A sigh fell from Joey’s mouth. “Remember when I said we had to close you up quickly the day you got here? Before every repair could be made?” 

Eddie nodded fearfully. 

“We did what we could with the time and resources we had,” Joey said, her eyes flicking down to the bandage that wrapped itself around Eddie’s chest. “But we had to close you up before we finished the work on your spine. We couldn’t go back in to assess the damage until after you received your new liver and your body gained some strength back.” 

Spine. 

His spine. 

Heart jumping in his chest, Eddie suddenly became so aware of how heavy his body felt on the bed, and how distant his legs felt from the rest of his body. He could feel himself falling into a panic as he pieced together Joey’s oncoming words. Bracing himself to hear the worst, Eddie squeezed his eyes shut and listened. 

“We don’t know the extent of the nerve damage, and we wouldn’t be able to find out until you woke up,” Joey explained seriously as she scooted the chair back a bit before moving it down towards the lower half of the bed. “If it’s alright with you, I’m going to perform an exam on your lower abdomen and legs now...to try and assess whether you still have in-tact nerve cells here.” 

Eddie nodded tightly, eyes growing wide as he watched Joey lift the sheet that’d been covering his legs and pull it down towards the end of the bed. Her eyes flicked up to his, and she gave him a calm but reassuring smile. “Don’t be scared, Eddie.” 

Eddie was scared. 

He was a runner, always had been since high school. The memory of when he spoke up against his mom and told her he was trying out for the track team flashed across his mind. It was the one place he was completely free from her, where he was _encouraged_ to run recklessly quick and hard and true. The track was one of the only places Eddie felt _free_ , and running continued to provide him that outlet through his entire adult life. It gave him a familiar comfort, even though he’d forgotten why. 

Eddie was so damn scared. 

“I’m going to start now, is that okay?” Joey asked, bringing her hands up to hover in the air above Eddie’s left waist. After receiving a quick nod of consent from Eddie, she reached down and gently palpated the area with two fingers. “All I need you to do is tell me whether or not you can feel what I’m doing, alright?” 

“Okay,” Eddie breathed. He didn’t even notice he’d been gripping his bed sheets in two tight fists until Joey glanced down at them and shot him another reassuring look. Exhaling, Eddie loosened his grip on the sheets and shifted his eyes towards the ceiling tiles. He couldn’t watch. “Yeah,” He eventually said, feeling a light repeating pressure on his side, “I feel that.” 

“Good. Do you feel this?” Joey asked again, just as the pressure on Eddie’s side disappeared. He felt another one just a few inches lower near his hips. 

“Yes.”

“And this?” She asked again, the pressure having shifted to the very top of Eddie’s thigh. It felt...lighter? It was probably nothing. She just didn’t press as hard that time. “Eddie?”

“Sorry, yes.” 

“Okay, what about this?” Joey said, her voice tighter after noting the hesitation in Eddie’s previous response. 

Nothing. 

A surge of panic rushed through Eddie’s chest as he shot his head back down towards his legs, where he found Joey pressing rather forcefully on his mid-thigh. An ice-cold chill rippled down his spine at the sight. He could see her pressing down on his leg, and yet he felt _nothing_. Throat clenching as panic started to overcome him, Eddie opened his mouth in an attempt to answer. Nothing came out. 

No...

Joey frowned when she heard no response, glancing over at Eddie. Her expression dropped almost instantly when she spotted the fear washing over Eddie’s paling face. “Anything?” Joey asked quietly, pressing again. 

No…

Eddie shook his head, his mouth pressed in a tight line as his body tensed harshly. It was the only thing caging in the raging dread that pooled inside him, threatening to break free at any moment. 

“Hey, look at me,” Joey said firmly, and Eddie listened. “Just look at me, don’t stop. Do you feel this?” 

From his peripheral, Eddie could see Joey pressing down on his leg again, this time near his knee. Eddie shook his head again, a sharp and trembling exhale escaping his mouth as he did. The fire searing his throat had spread to his eyes, stinging them as tears pooled within them. 

“Eddie, look at me,” Joey ordered again, her voice stern. She waited until Eddie obeyed before starting again. “What about this?” 

Absolutely nothing. 

Squeezing his eyes shut, Eddie shook his head another time. He felt a few burning tears spill out from the corners of his eyes and streak down his face, the shock of it all finally starting to hit him. He shouldn’t have looked. He shouldn’t have looked down at Joey pressing down on his leg like that, see her hand so clearly leaving a temporary indentation in his skin yet feeling none of it. It was something his brain couldn’t comprehend, a sight that was surely designed to play tricks on him. 

Only it wasn’t. 

“Eddie, please,” Joey said with the same firm voice, making sure not to raise her volume any more than she already had. “Keep looking at me.” 

Trembling, Eddie forced his eyes open, more tears cascaded from his eyes as he did. He sucked in a sharp breath and prepared himself for the worst as he stared intensely into Joey’s unreadable eyes. Her hands moved along his leg, all the way down to his feet. Leaning down, she took a moment to examine Eddie’s ankle and foot before looking back up to meet Eddie’s gaze. 

“Okay, watch me,” Joey breathed, taking in another slow, deep breath. She raised one hand as she did, palm facing up, and nodded towards Eddie to follow her lead. Eddie nodded, breathing in slowly through his nose. They both held it for ten seconds before Joey flipped her palm to face the ground and lowered her hand, exhaling out of her mouth. She had Eddie repeat the same motion multiple times before moving on. “Good, Eddie. Now I want you to try and wiggle your toes for me, alright?” 

“O-okay,” Eddie choked, trying his best to mimic the breathing he’d just done for Joey. It was extremely difficult to maintain as he stared in horror at his motionless foot. With every passing second, it grew harder and harder to breathe. Eddie strained even harder, more tears slipping down his cheeks as he exerted himself on what should have been a simple task. 

Joey upheld her stoic expression as she let her eyes fall back down to Eddie’s foot. She stared intently, watching for any form of movement at all, no matter how quick or miniscule. After a minute or so, Joey exhaled the breath she’d been holding. “Eddie, I thi-”

Eddie’s heart jumped when Joey’s eyes widened. 

“Eddie do that again,” She uttered urgently, the words sending jolts of adrenaline rushing through his body. Eddie was looking at Joey, just like she’d told him to do, so he wasn’t watching his toes at all. But what she said...he must’ve just done something. 

He must’ve moved. 

Eddie’s eyes fell from her gaze, the sight of his toes moving eliciting a gasp from them both. 

Joey let out a mix between a laugh and a sigh, her hand reaching up to rest atop her heart. “Oh excellent, Eddie,” She breathed with relief, “This is really, really good. There’s still healthy nerve cells here and, with some time and physical therapy, it’s possible you could regain a bit more feeling in the rest of your leg.” 

“Really?” Eddie gasped as a shocked smile grew on his face, a new elation bursting from his heart when Joey nodded in return. 

While the pair laughed with relief, Joey scooted her chair to the other side of Eddie’s bed and reached up with the same two fingers above his waist. “Ready for the next side?” She asked, a hopeful look sparking in her eyes as she stared down at him. Eddie nodded, and Joey proceeded. 

The second leg showed even more promise than the first. Eddie felt almost every press of Joey’s fingers, and while some were barely detectable around his thigh and upper calf, the relief that flooded through Eddie at the knowledge was enough for him to pass out. “This is _really_ good, Eddie,” Joey smiled. She reached up and placed her hand on top of his and gave it an encouraging squeeze before pulling back. “You did so great.” 

Eddie smiled back as he nodded again, still too choked up to bring himself to speak. He lifted his hands to rub his eyes and swipe away the few tears that’d fallen. 

“As someone who hasn’t used their leg muscles at all in the last three months,” Joey continued as she finished taking an extensive list of notes on her clipboard, “This shows a lot of promise. There’s a good chance you could gain some feeling back after you start rebuilding the muscle you lost. Now, get some rest, and don’t strain yourself.” 

Shooting one final smile at Eddie, Joey left the room and turned to walk down the hallway. A rush of emotion that both excited and terrified Eddie pulsed through his body as the events that had just unfolded before him replayed in his mind. Eddie had only lost partial feeling of his right leg, which was a relief after discovering the near complete lack of feeling in his other leg. But there was still hope, and for right now, that was enough. 

Joey returned not long after to check Eddie’s IV fluids and vitals. He hadn’t noticed the pangs of hunger that striking his stomach in waves until she mentioned the fluids. Eddie asked if he could have something to eat, but Joey quickly turned him down and said that he should stay on the IV fluids until his body had more time to wake up. After a while, she said he could start out with something small like crackers to see how they sat. Eddie frustratingly agreed. 

The room fell into a heavy silence when Joey left for a second time, the only sound present to keep Eddie company being the rhythmic beeps coming from the machines he was hooked up to with all this wiring and tubing. Eddie didn’t mind the silence at first, not until the events of dreams. 

They’d felt so real. 

Eddie genuinely _believed_ they were real. 

But as he sat there, alone with the monitors in his room, Eddie quickly came to realize that everything he’d discovered about himself in those dreams...everything he’d _felt_...it was all still there. The hyper-realistic world that his mind concocted may have just been a fictional figment, but not everything within it. Eddie flinched as the thoughts all came pouring over him at once, threatening to spill over and drown him. 

Deep breath Eddie, just like Joey said, deep breath. 

It was time to make a new list, just like the one he’d made in his dream the moment he realized he was dead. One that he could pull out of the pocket in his head and read again and again, just to serve as a reminder of what was real and what wasn’t. 

_I married my mother._

Eddie cringed, thinking back to that moment in the yard behind the Townhouse as he watched Ben and Beverly stare at each other so lovingly...something he realized he and Myra never really shared. God, he wasn such an idiot. Looking back on it now, it was so painfully obvious. It frightened Eddie how blind he’d been to the truth that stood right in plain sight for so many years of marriage. 

_My mother, along with all the rest of Derry, and that stupid clown all scared me away from who I truly was._

All those days his mother kept him locked away in the house when he asked to go play outside with Richie. 

Sick.

All those names the other kids called Richie and some of the other boys at school.

Twisted. 

All those attacks by the leper, and all those things it tried to do to him. 

Dirty. 

The memories tore at Eddie’s mind, raking their claws within his head and leaving deep gashes in their wake. They still burned, and deep down, Eddie had a feeling that the burning would always be there. Those notions had been engraved so harshly into his mind as a child that no matter what he did, he would also carry the burden of that shadow for the rest of his life. 

But that was okay, because Eddie knew who he was now. 

_I am gay._

Eddie was the very thing he was brought up to fear, and it’d taken him all his life to not only realize it, but to accept it. 

_I’m in love with Richie Tozier._

Richie said that he loved Eddie back, he did so many times. He said he loved Eddie since they were kids, that it’d always been him from the start. And that he would always love him. 

But that was all part of the dream. 

Nothing more than a hope. 

A fool’s hope. 

But that didn’t drive Eddie to shy away from this new part of himself that he was still learning how to embrace. A part of him that was always there, just hindered and repressed by the trauma of his childhood in that hellhole of a town. It didn’t matter if Richie didn’t feel that same way about Eddie because they were both _alive_ and they could live their lives together, now. Eddie could finally make up for all the time he’d lost with his best fucking friends in the entire goddamn world. 

His real family. 

Eddie wasn’t sure how many hours had passed when he saw the shadow of someone approaching his door from the hallway. He shot up from where he laid with a jolt, his pulse racing as he eyed the approaching figure. That whole time in the coma felt like a day or two to him, but for everyone else? It’d been three months since his friends saw Eddie awake and talking. An eternity in his book. 

But what Eddie wasn’t prepared for was the disturbing disappointment he felt as he watched Myra stride through the doorway and into Eddie’s room. 

His own _wife_ had gotten here first. 

And Eddie felt disappointed by that. 

How did he not see it sooner... 

“Eddie,” Myra cried out. She rushed over to his bedside as he stared at her, speechless and wide-eyed. Within seconds, she had a small cloth out and was wiping some mark off his face. “How are you feeling?”

How the _fuck_ did he not see it sooner. 

“Fine,” Eddie breathed, unable to move as she fawned over him by brushing his grown-out hair away from his face. It’d grown a good inch or two while he was out, and sat pointing in all directions from laying on it for so long. “Myra, I-” 

“Eddie,” Myra snapped as she sat down in the chair beside his bed, dropping her purse on the ground and staring back at him with a manic expression. “Do you have any idea what you put me through?” 

Eddie bit his lip, doing the same breaths Joey had him do earlier that day. He could feel his pulse without even trying, with how loudly his heart was beating in his chest. His blood pressure was already elevated, he could tell. Shit, he didn’t want to do this right now. He wasn’t prepared for this. 

“You wouldn’t answer any of my texts or calls,” Myra said, pointing a finger at Eddie as she used her other hand to examine his nearer arm and hand. Her eyes fell upon the large bandage wrapped around Eddie’s abdomen, and her face paled as her expression went cold. “Eddie, I called the police and reported you missing, and it wasn’t until a few days later that I got a call from this… _man_ whom I’ve never heard of tell me you almost _died!_

Okay, she did have a point. 

Eddie probably should’ve at least texted her where he was going, or even just replied to her messages saying that he was safe and that he’d be back soon. He thought back to the early days of his dream, when the Losers sat the large front room of the Townhouse as they discussed what to do about his untimely disappearance and death. They spoke of Myra, debating whether or not to even tell her about Eddie at all, and it felt so strange to be sitting here in front of her now. 

It certainly wasn’t a pleasant feeling, either. 

“Why did it take so long for me to get the call about you being here?” Myra demanded, her eyes flooded with both anger and desperation. 

“Myra, I was in a _coma_ , you think I know?” Eddie replied in the same volume and tone, adrenaline coursing through his veins as he spoke. 

His hands clenched into fists at his sides. She barely even asked how he was doing, after three months in a coma that she didn’t know if he’d ever wake up from. And now Eddie was awake, and all she cared about was how he ignored her the days leading up to the injury. Had their relationship always been like this? Eddie cringed at the thought, not wanting to know the answer. 

“What about _before_ that, Eddie?” Myra countered, raising her eyebrows expectantly. “Why didn’t you tell me where you were going?” 

“Okay, okay,” He sighed, bringing up a hand to pinch the bridge of his nose, “I’m sorry, I should’ve told you where I was going.”

Myra sighed, her expression softening a bit as she sat back in her seat. She slowly eyed him up and down, taking in every bandage, scratch, tube, and monitor. “I should have never let you go, look where it got you.” 

“Myra I _had_ to go, my-”

“No, you didn’t!” Myra cried out, throwing her hands to the sides in emphasis. “Eddie, you're too delicate. You have to be more careful.” 

_You’re too delicate, Eddie-bear, you can’t be playing like this._

Eddie’s blood boiled as he heard his mother’s voice echo so loudly in his mind. It pierced his skull, digging into his head and embedding itself as deeply as it could, nestling in permanently. He felt every muscle in his body grow tense as Myra’s voice and his mother’s voice started to merge in his mind until they became indistinguishable. His knuckles turned white at his sides as he gripped the bed sheets even harder. “Myra-”

“As soon as we get home, I’m keeping you in the house,” Myra cut Eddie off as she stood, looming over Eddie as he shook in his bed. “And you’re going to stay there until you’re fully healed, otherwise you’d just go out and hurt yourself again!” 

_What were you doing out there, Eddie-bear? Is that a scratch on your cheek? And your clothes, they’re an absolute mess!_

...Oh my god. 

They sounded the same now. Eddie couldn’t tell them apart at all no matter how hard he tried. Their voices spoke to him in his mind, the whispers of their malicious sentiments quickly growing to become blaring shouts and screams. He couldn’t make it stop. “Myra, please, just-”

“I’ll make sure those ‘friends’ of yours stay far away after what they did to you, Eddie,” Myra added with another point of her finger as she glanced down at the scar on Eddie’s face and the bandage covering his abdomen. “And I already have a list of medicines for you to take that are supposed to help you get better faster.” 

_You didn’t take your pills today, Eddie-bear. And what did I tell you about that Tozier boy? You should stay away from him._

Fucking DAMMIT!

STUPID, STUPID, STUPID!

Not again. Eddie wasn’t gonna let himself make the same mistake he made in the past. And he knew he would, because this time was different. This time, the clown was dead and he wasn’t in Derry and his mother wasn’t around to manipulate him anymore. Disgusted with how long it took to finally see the truth, Eddie refused to let himself succumb to the same demons that trapped him and tortured him so evilly as a defenseless child. 

How the _fuck_ did he not see it sooner? 

“Myra!” Eddie snapped, cutting off her spiel abruptly. Myra stared back at him with a shocked expression, as if she’d never heard Eddie use such a loud voice before in her life. Taking the silence to exhale the breath he’d been holding, Eddie spoke with a stern voice. “Myra, we need to talk.” 

“Talk about what?” Myra asked, a slight tone of astonishment still laced in her voice. “Something more important than this?” 

“Yes,” Eddie replied sharply as he threw her a long-suffering and stoic gaze. Shit, he didn’t know what the hell he was doing, or what how he was supposed to say this. He did know one thing for certain, though. If he over-thought this he knew he’d just psych himself out and send himself into a spiraling panic. As Eddie felt his blood pressure spike even higher, he suddenly saw a flash of Richie’s face fly across his mind. He focused on the image, slowly gaining more clarity, before he could make out two figures standing on a pile of rubble. It was from Richie and Eddie’s talk before they descended down into the cavern to fight the clown once and for all. 

Richie stared at Eddie with a softening expression, his lips curving upwards slightly as he gripped both of Eddie’s arms with his hands. One hand held his inhaler, while the other slowly slipped down all the way to Eddie’s wrist before taking his hand into a firm but reassuring grasp. Eddie stared up at Richie, growing nervous at how intensely Richie was staring at him. Then, the man finally spoke. 

_You’re braver than you think._

Eddie remembered the night after Richie confessed everything to the other Losers in his all-too-vivid dream. 

_I was in love with my best friend for thirty goddamn years._

He remembered slipping into Richie’s bedroom that night before finding himself staring at the man who’d unlocked a courage inside Eddie that he didn’t even know existed. 

_Some things are worth the risk. I know that now. You Losers are my best friends, and I can’t stand that I lost you all for so many fucking years._

He remembered when he uncovered the demons that’d been haunting him all his life, shielding him from a part of himself that he now did his best to embrace. 

_God, when she called you those names I wanted to smash every window in the house because even if she didn’t know it, she was...she was calling me the same thing. And fuck, she made me so terrified at the thought of liking you!_

He remembered what it felt like to fight the monsters away with the strength Richie and the other Losers had given him through their ever-tightening bond. Eddie was truly as brave as Richie said if he _believed_ he was. 

_But you know what, Rich? I’m not afraid of her anymore. She can’t control me anymore!_

He remembered what it felt like to hold Richie’s face in his hands, opening himself up to the man who’d given him more happiness in his life than anyone he’d ever met. 

_You were always there. And what you said before, about missing a part of you all those years? It felt the same for me, too...and I didn’t even fucking notice. You were always more of a home for me than the house I grew up in._

Eddie remembered the exact moment he knew he was in love with Richie. 

_You’re more important to me than anything...Richie, I...I think I’m in love with you, too._

And he wasn’t going to let anyone take that away from him, not this time. 

_You’re braver than you think._

“Myra,” Eddie said again, a new-found strength behind his voice as he spoke. He’d never felt such tenacity in his life, even as he laid in this hospital bed, his body broken and neglected. Be brave, Eddie. Be brave and just fucking say it how it is. Be brave like Richie. “Myra I want a divorce.” 

Shit, he’d never felt such a rush. After all these years, Eddie was finally standing up for himself, like he should’ve done all his life. And yet, as Eddie watched the look of anguish flash across Myra’s face, he couldn’t help but notice the pangs of guilt striking his heart. She was still his _wife_ , after all. 

“I-” Myra stammered, utterly speechless, taken completely aback by the statement. She stared back at Eddie with a baffled and perplexed expression, as if questioning whether the man before her was truly her husband or not. 

Eddie sat in silence, unblinking as he stared Myra down with such intensity he could feel her tension growing all the way from the bed. 

“Eddie,” Myra said, her voice suddenly much calmer, “You’re not in your right mind.” 

“What-” 

“It’s the medicine talking, Eddie,” Myra continued, speaking over Eddie again, “You just woke up from a _coma_ , you have no clue what you’re talking about.” 

Shaking his head solemnly, Eddie continued to keep his stare directly on Myra as the same strength from before continued to flow through his blood. It was like a drug, giving him a high like he’d never felt in his life. The sensation brought with it a new-found clarity, reassuring him that he was nothing less than completely lucid. Another wave of adrenaline spiked in his core as he spoke again, his heart pounding even faster. “No, Myra,” Eddie replied, his voice certain and unwavering, “I’ve never been in a more sound mind than I am in this very moment.” 

Like the flip of a lightswitch, Eddie watched Myra’s expression morph from that of disbelief to one of ultimate betrayal. Her previous tactic wasn’t working and, just like that, she’d switched to a new one. 

“You left me alone, Eddie,” Myra muttered as her eyes narrowed with misery, “You left me and you nearly got yourself killed because of it! And now, you’re...you’re leaving me again?” 

Eddie glared back as his fists trembled against the bed, fighting so desperately against the calm composure he’d been trying to uphold. They were adults, they could be civil about this. Or so he thought. 

“Do you know how _awful_ those days were for me?” Myra asked with a pleading look in her eyes. She shifted on her feet, growing restless under Eddie’s lethal stare. “I didn’t know if you were dead or alive, or whether I was ever going to find you again! And then I found you, and now you’re going to _leave_.” 

Eyes falling shut, Eddie tried to push out the ever-growing guilt that pooled inside his chest. He really did put her through a few days of hell, he’ll give her that. And shit, she looked so hurt by what he said. Maybe she was right, maybe-

The view in Eddie’s mind suddenly fell to darkness, wiping everything clean like a slate. A void darker and quieter than shadow appeared before him as Eddie leaned forward and tried to strain his eyes. There was a figure in the distance, though he couldn’t make out what it was from so far away. But then he heard it, and knew in an instant the creature that eyed him from the abyss. 

It was the clown, and it snickered at him. 

The haunting, world-shattering sound tore through Eddie’s head with such ferocity that it pulled him back to the present within an instant. It unfolded the list Eddie made in his mind, the words appearing behind Eddie’s eyes like a glowing beacon against the darkness. 

_I married my mother._

_My mother, along with all the rest of Derry, and the clown all scared me away from who I truly was._

No, this wasn’t a mistake. 

Not in the slightest. 

“Eddie!” Myra snapped, pulling Eddie back to reality as his eyes shot open. He met her gaze to find a fiery stare, anger pooling behind the blatant sorrow in her eyes. But when she spoke, all Eddie heard was his mother. “You need me, Eddie.”

“No I don’t,” Eddie snapped darkly as another pulse of anger rushing through him and finally sent his body tipping over the edge. A monitor behind him began to beep loudly and frantically, followed by another just seconds later. “I-”

“You need me to keep you _safe_!” Myra nearly yelled back, eyes growing furious at Eddie’s uncharacter resistance to her demands. 

“NO, I DON’T!” Eddie shouted as his last shred of restraint finally snapped in two. The response set off yet another alarm behind Eddie, but he didn’t dare look...he couldn’t care less about them right now. Footsteps suddenly echoed from down the hall, growing louder as they approached Eddie’s room. “YOU’RE NOT _LISTENING_ TO ME!”

Myra didn’t pay notice to the few nurses that barged into the room and quickly ran over to assess the monitors and the situation unfolding before them. Instead, she held her startled gaze on Eddie, taking a moment to compose herself before fighting back. “You don’t know what you’re _saying!_ ” Myra snapped back with just as much force, “ _You can’t do this!_ ”

Now seeing that Myra was the source of the problem, the nurses all gather around Myra and started to firmly ask her to leave the room. Myra pushed through them, stopping at the end of Eddie’s bed as she flipped another switch inside her head to instantaneously alter her expression to a heartbroken one. She started to sob as she made one final, desperate plea, “Please, Eddie...don’t do this…” 

Slowing his breathing like he and Joey had practiced, Eddie loosened the tension in his chest just enough to lower his voice to a strained mutter. His eyes met Myra’s and he shot her a furious, yet apologetic expression. “I’m so sorry, Myra,” Eddie answered, his voice low and resolute despite his violently trembling body. “It’s over.” 

And then she was gone, ushered swiftly out of the room by the small group of nurses. Eddie sat, out of breath and in shock, as waves of heat flushed from his head down to his stomach. His eyes never left the door, listening to the sound of their footsteps growing quieter as they maneuvered down the hall and eventually out of hearing range. 

Alone again, Eddie exhaled and let his body relax. 

Head spinning, Eddie barely noticed when Joey rushed into the room and swiftly approached him. “What happened?” She asked, glancing at all the alarming monitors as she scribbled down his elevated blood pressure and heart rate on his chart. 

Sighing, Eddie turned his head to face her, suddenly aware of how _hot_ his face felt. His hands still pointedly shook atop his sheets. “I, uh...just told my wife I want a divorce.” 

Joey stopped what she was doing to stare back at Eddie, meeting his eyes with a concerned gaze. “Oh…” 

“Yeah,” Eddie said as he huffed a dry laugh and ran a hand through his messy hair, “ _Oh_.” 

“Are...you okay?” Joey asked hesitantly, her eyes glued to the monitors. She watched each alarm gradually fade away, one after the other, as Eddie finally brought himself to calm down. 

“Yeah,” Eddie repeated. He laid his head back against his pillow with a heavy sigh, letting his eyes flutter shut. “More than okay, I think.” 

Hours passed, and Eddie’s head was still spinning after the incident. The scene replayed in his mind again and again, each moment lifting Eddie off the ground a little higher. As the reality of the split really started to sink in, Eddie was finally able to notice how much _lighter_ he felt. 

His demons were finally gone. 

And Eddie was freed. 

Free from his mother’s abuse, free from Derry’s prejudice, free from the clown’s torment. A newfound sense of alleviation poured outwards from his chest, spreading to the most distant tendrils of his being. It was like a new life swept through his body, granting him true vision as it rekindled the tattered and broken form of himself that laid on the thin, ragged sheets of his hospital bed. 

Clarity. 

It was like he’d stepped on an ethereal plane, the world before him certainly not the same place he’d spent his life in. 

And it was so beautiful. 

For the first time in his life, Eddie felt unwavering certainty and fortitude. 

And for the first time in his life, he waited to speak to the man whom he loved without fear of trepidation. 

Eddie embraced the sensation with open arms, allowing it to carry him into a light rest. He didn’t sleep, no he’d slept enough for a while. But this new-found freedom provided Eddie with a thrilling sense of euphoria that allowed his mind to go quiet. No racing thoughts, no anxieties, no anything. Knowing this sensational moment was temporary, Eddie relished every minute of it. 

The feeling helped calm Eddie as he waited for his friends arrive. He didn’t have his phone, so he couldn’t text or call them. So, he just had to sit and wait for them. A rush of excitement burst through Eddie’s chest as he closed his eyes and pictured the Loser’s Club. To wait for their faces to appear in his doorway was agonizing. 

He needed to see their faces again, smiling and full of life. 

Neibolt was the last place Eddie saw his friends, all of them covered head-to-toe in blood, muk, and debris. It was not a fond memory. He could still clearly see the raw fear that came over their faces as the clown dangled him helplessly in the air. Though darkened and unclear, Eddie could still see the faces of his friends as they hovered over his broken and bleeding body on the rocks. Richie’s face was the last Eddie could remember, his eyes struck with horror as he held something above Eddie’s injury. 

Then, a white-hot flash of pain followed by a brutal darkness. 

The desperation to see his friends only built Eddie’s excitement, and as he saw their terrified faces flash once again across his mind, Eddie’s thoughts fell to Richie. He remembered how he felt down in the cavern, so empowered and courageous as he threw that spear at the clown and struck him in the face to save Richie from the Deadlights. And now, here Eddie lay, feeling the exact same way. 

_You’re braver than you think._

It was a strength he never would’ve found without his friends, one that helped him in more ways than one in his fight to defeat the clown and win. Richie was right, even when Eddie didn’t believe it. The image of Richie’s smiling face flooded Eddie’s mind and brought him a welcoming sense of comfort. 

Eddie was alive. 

Eddie and Richie were both alive, and Eddie loved him so much it scared him. 

A pain struck Eddie’s heart as he was forced to remember the reality his brain kept trying to repress. Everything Eddie saw and heard in his coma, despite helping him discover things about himself that were true, was nothing more than a fiction concocted by his mind. The things he faced during those hyper-realistic, so incredibly vivid dreams, none of it really happened. It was just something Eddie’s mind came up with to deal with his own personal shit, wasn’t it?

Richie didn’t really say those things...did he? 

Everything he said was just a lie. 

Nothing but a fool’s dream.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 99 - Elliot Moss 
> 
> Hide all the keys, and seal our windows  
> ‘Cause I’m going to war  
> Don’t hold your breath waiting for me  
> ‘Cause I may never come home
> 
> Hide all the keys, and seal our windows  
> ‘Cause I’m going to war  
> Don’t hold your breath waiting for me  
> ‘Cause I may never come home
> 
> No, I may never come home
> 
> Hide all the keys, and seal our windows  
> ‘Cause I’m going to war  
> Don’t hold your breath waiting for me  
> ‘Cause I may never come home
> 
> Leave all your bags, and head for the water  
> Chase the lies into the sea  
> Don’t hold your breath waiting for me  
> ‘Cause I may never come home
> 
> No, I may never come home  
> ‘Cause I may never come home  
> (No, I may never come home.)  
> Don't hold your breath waiting for me  
> ‘Cause I may never come home
> 
> No, I may never come home  
> I may never come home  
> (No, I may never come home.)  
> Don't hold your breath waiting for me  
> ‘Cause I may never come home
> 
> No, home  
> No, home  
> No, home  
> No, home
> 
> I hear a train that’ll take me some place  
> Farther from the shore  
> Don’t hold your breath waiting for me  
> ‘Cause the ocean needs you more
> 
> Leave all your bags, and head for the water  
> Chase the lies into the sea  
> Don’t hold your breath waiting for me  
> ‘Cause I may never come home
> 
> No, I may never come  
> I may never come home  
> No, I may never come home  
> I may never come home
> 
> (No, I may never come home.)  
> Don't hold your breath waiting for me  
> ‘Cause I may never come home  
> No, I may never come home
> 
> No, home  
> No, home  
> No, home  
> No, home
> 
> No, I may never come home  
> No, I may never come home  
> No, I may never come home  
> No, I may never come home
> 
> One hundred men, raise your heads up  
> ‘Cause we’re going to war  
> Open your eyes, and steady your hands  
> ‘Cause we may never come home
> 
> Hide all the keys, and seal our windows  
> ‘Cause I’m going to war  
> Don’t hold your breath waiting for me  
> ‘Cause I won’t ever come home


	30. Home from Home

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: HOMOPHOBIC SLURS (MULTIPLE), MINOR INTERNALIZED HOMOPHOBIA

“For fuck’s sake, Billiam! Can’t you drive _any_ faster?!” Richie asked loudly, clutching his phone tightly in his hands as Bill hastily steered the rental car they’d picked up from the airport. 

“I’m already going fifteen over the speed limit, Rich,” Bill argued with a pointed finger aimed at Richie. He glanced down at his phone that rested below the radio and eyed the remainder of the route on his GPS. “We’re almost there, you should t-text her now.” 

“Shit, alright,” Richie muttered. His hands shook as he opened his contacts and tapped Joey’s name, doing his best to type a quick and legible message.

**Trashmouth (Me!):**  
Almsot tehre ten minutse

**Joey (Maine):**  
okay im in the lobby

Richie released a stuttering breath as Bill pulled into a parking spot just minutes later. Face buried in his hands, he forced himself to breathe deeply, sucking in heavy lungfuls of air before releasing them slowly. “Fuck,” He snapped, unable to calm himself down as reality came crashing down on his shoulders all over again, “ _Fuck!_ ” 

_Eddie was awake._

Jerking at the touch of Bill’s hand on his back, Richie shot a terrified look in his direction. Bill said nothing at first, staring Richie deeply in the eyes with a gleam that Richie hadn’t seen in weeks. A smile tugged at his lips when he finally spoke. “R-ready, Rich?” 

With one final exhale a quick series of nods, Richie climbed out of the car and met Bill on the other side of it. They both abandoned their luggage in the trunk or backseat, having not bothered to stop at the hotel before arriving at the hospital. 

Richie spotted Joey in the lobby almost immediately, her short red hair standing out against the bland color of the walls. The afternoon sun spilled in from outside, its rays of light striking her gray eyes at just the right angle. It looked so deceivingly warm outside despite the crisp chill in the air. Those gray eyes were the same ones Richie had stared into dozens of times before, but there was something else pooling inside them. Something Richie didn’t recognize. 

It wasn’t until Joey spotted them and leapt forward, tears brimming at the corners of her eyes, did Richie mark the glimmer of unmatched jubilance on her face. She threw her arms around Bill and Richie both, pulling them into her tight, welcoming embrace. An overjoyed grin appeared on Joey’s face when she pulled back. “I know you know the way,” She breathed happily, eyes still glistening, “But I’ll walk you there.” 

Wasting no time, the trio set off on the familiar trek to Eddie’s room. Richie remembered the route well, having taken it so many times those few months ago. He knew these barren walls and ice-cold tile floor just as he knew the buzzing fluorescent lights that lined the ceilings. The smell hadn’t changed, either, as the familiar scent of plastic and disinfectants filled the halls. Familiar faces strolled by, belonging to both doctors and patients. 

Being here again brought back so many heart-wrenching memories. 

Back in the lobby, right where they’d just stood? That was the spot where Joey first told them Eddie needed a liver transplant, and the same spot Richie first felt his world break away beneath his feet. Up the stairs and down the hallway to the right? That was the nook where Richie fled after witnessing Eddie’s heart stop for the fourth time right in front of him, isolated and haunted by the clown’s contemporary presence in his mind. 

These halls tormented Richie to no ends, forcing him to relive some of the darkest and most painful moments of his life. The agony from his past tore through his defenses like they were paper, striking him right where he was most vulnerable. He felt his body grow painfully tense as he strode quickly behind Joey. 

But as they rounded the final corner leading to Eddie’s room, Richie felt another rush of anticipation flow down his body as a new, particular sensation made itself known. Contrary to the angering strife that pounded so fiercely in Richie’s heart, he felt something lighter. Something much more fragile and precious. 

Alleviation. 

That spot right there, just a few doors down from Eddie’s room? That was where the others gathered around Beverly, sobbing with relieved awe after learning about Stanley’s unforeseen survival. And that light up ahead, the one shining down on the tile floor outside Eddie’s room? That was where Richie collapsed to his knees following the liver transplant as he blissfully watched Joey wheel Eddie back into his room. Despite every obstacle thrown at Eddie, he survived every fucking second of it. 

_Stanley and Eddie were alive._

_Eddie was awake_.

And soon, for the first time in over two decades, the Losers Club would be fully reunited once again. Present, alive, and _awake_. 

Richie’s heart swelled within him at the thought as a new rush of adrenaline pushed him to walk even faster. Upon reaching the last remaining steps towards Eddie’s door, however, Richie halted abruptly. Reality struck him in the gut like a runaway train, nearly knocking him off his feet and onto the floor. If he took just a few more steps, he’d be face-to-face with Eddie through the small glass panel on the door. 

Something Richie thought he would never be able to do again. A thrilling wave of exhilaration poured outwards from his chest, and it terrified him in the best possible way. 

Joey stepped in front of the pair and clicked the door open slowly. She peeked her head into the room, saying something Richie couldn’t make out, but a kind smile was on her face when she turned back to face them. Leaving the door cracked, Joey shuffled back and nodded her head towards Eddie’s room. “He’s ready, you can see him now,” She said, her excited eyes shifting between Richie and Bill’s stares. “Call me if you need me.” 

“Thank you, Joey,” Richie uttered fondly as she turned, his voice shaking. “Seriously.” 

Joey stopped for just a moment and threw him a look of sincere thanks. Hesitating, Riche slowly strained his foot to take a step. Then another, and another. He was outside the door now, out-of-view of the bed inside, when he noticed the sound of footsteps behind him had vanished. Brows creasing in confusion, Richie shot a look over his shoulder to find Bill a ways back, both of his hands stuffed into the front pockets of his jeans. 

“Go on, R-richie,” Bill said with a nod, his lips curling up in the slightest fraction. His expression softened when Richie threw him another confused stare. “I’m gonna call and check on the others, go on.” 

An understanding hit Richie when he finally caught the loving expression of both encouragement and awareness on Bill’s face. The man was giving Richie time alone with Eddie before anyone else came inside. Bill’s smile grew when Richie suddenly offered him a tearful thank you. Bill nodded towards the door once again, “Go on,” He said, egging his friend on, “You can d-do it.”

_Eddie._

My god, they’d been through so much. Too much for any one person to bear for an entire lifetime. Richie exhaled as images from Neibolt flashed across his mind, the sight sending a fearful chill running down his back. 

After everything... 

After watching the horrific and torturous death that Eddie’s future held in the Deadlights, after seeing Eddie’s body impaled on the clown’s jagged claw, after refusing to stand aside and do nothing as Eddie slowly died right before him, after hastily stuffing Eddie’s wound with the other’s shirts in a desperate attempt to keep him alive…

_Oh, Eddie._

Fuck, he’d looked _dead_ by the time they dragged his limp body out of Neibolt, his vessels drained of nearly a quarter of his blood. Richie was still haunted by the sight of Eddie’s paling face as his head rested atop his lap in the backseat of that speeding car. 

Watching helplessly…

Watching as the life slowly faded from his unconscious face, watching the spurts of blood that continued to pour from Eddie’s wounds, watching the doctors’ horrified faces when they saw the shape Eddie was in, watching them rush Eddie down the hallway in a desperate attempt to reach the operating room before he died right then and there. 

They told Richie that Eddie shouldn’t have survived the night. 

But he did. 

Eddie defied death again and again and again like it was his fucking _job_. Not only was he the one who gave them the idea on how to win against It, but he saved Richie’s life and nearly lost his life in the process, he had to get a new fucking liver, he survived his heart stopping _four_ fucking times, and he went into a fucking coma and _he fucking woke up_. 

As Richie wrapped his hand around the cool metal handle of the doorknob, he felt the sinking weight of his dark thoughts that’d been growing on his shoulders suddenly evaporate. They certainly wouldn’t be gone forever, Richie knew better than to believe that. No matter what he did, they would always come back to haunt him again, and he finally understood that nothing he could ever do would make it completely go away. 

But holy shit, Eddie was alive...if Eddie was alive, then Richie could face anything. 

_Eddie, my love_. 

Hand visibly shaking, Richie swung open the door took a single step past the threshold before he froze. He knew this place. He’d had a breakdown on that floor over there, and he had nightmares on that futon against the wall. He’d wept in that chair in the corner of the room, too. The same chair he sat in while leaning gently on the bed and clasping Eddie’s hand lovingly in his own. 

As the fabric of time tore apart around him, Richie strained to look up towards the bed and found himself staring into Eddie’s open eyes. 

If there was a fire engulfing the world around him, Richie did not feel its heat nor its prowess as it wrapped its tendrils around his feet. He did not smell the strong stench of its smoke, unable to feel the burns it was surely leaving on his face, in his eyes, and down his throat. He did not flinch as its flames tore through his clothes and gnawed at his skin. 

Richie felt nothing of the world around him, for his entire world was in that bed staring back at him. 

Awake. 

In that instant, Richie swore his heart stopped as he let the sight of the man before him sink in. He tried to breathe yet found himself still, barely standing upright as the room started to spin with an overwhelming haze. That was Eddie’s face. It was _his_ body, and _his_ eyes, and _his _hair, only...it was much longer now, cascading down his face and stopping just above his thin beard. But it was Eddie, it was _his_ Eddie. __

__“Richie,” The man gasped from the bed, eyes widening and jaw falling slack._ _

__That was _Eddie’s_ voice, calling his name. _ _

__It was a sound Richie hadn’t heard him say out loud since their fated fight in the cavern at Neibolt. After that, he only heard the name in his darkest of nightmares, the ones that struck in the dead of night. Richie could still feel vibrations that cascaded down his body as the invisible voices called out to him, his name echoing against the inner walls of his mind with heavy anguish and torment._ _

__The clown fed off of those thoughts like a ravenous, starving animal when it still resided in his mind, twisting Richie’s thoughts with the flick of a finger. But now that fucker was dead, and Richie was finally freed._ _

___And Eddie was awake._ _ _

__“...Ed-Eddie,” Richie cried back, the name but a weak whimper on his lips._ _

___Eddie was awake and he looked him in the eyes and called out his name._ _ _

__Throat constricting harshly, Richie felt his strength fail as he collapsed onto the cold, hard floor. His knees struck the surface with a loud and painful thud, a jolt of pain shooting up his legs. A sudden outburst of sobs slipped form Richie’s mouth. He trembled violently as he cried, never once taking his eyes off the man that laid before him. The man whom he loved more than anything this world could ever offer to him._ _

__Nearly convulsing, Richie _wept_. He kept one hand on the floor to steady himself while he used the other to cover his mouth. It wasn’t until the sound of a distant yet gravitating voice finally pulled him back to the present. Eddie was calling his name from the bed, sitting up now and staring down at Richie with widened eyes of concern. _ _

__“Richie…”_ _

__Richie found himself pulled back onto his feet by the voice, its lingering sound like a caress on his skin that was warmer than the sun’s embrace. It carried him towards the bed with grace before gently guiding him down into the chair beside Eddie’s bed._ _

__Surely, this was all a dream._ _

__The ethereal sight before him was too angelic to be real, a beauty unlike any other. One that he’d only seen in starlit dreams of far-off lands that didn’t exist._ _

__But this wasn’t a dream at all._ _

__It was real, and it was so fucking beautiful. The sensation was like sucking in a deep lung-full of air after holding his breath underwater, the act offering him a brisk clarity of the world that unfolded before Richie’s eyes. There was no world around them, no sky and no ground. Time did not pass, nor did the rush of the wind. The air stood perfectly still, its immaculate form filling the emptiness between them._ _

__This moment was not only real, but the first, tangible grasp Richie had on the reality he’d buried within himself for so long._ _

__Holding his breath, Richie glanced up at Eddie and found himself lost in the growing smile on his face. With every passing week following his departure from Maine, the thought of never seeing that smile again haunted Richie’s waking thoughts. He started to believe that Eddie would remain trapped in his world of endless sleep, unable to live the life he deserved as the man he saved watched helplessly from his bedside._ _

__But now, Eddie was here and could share that life with him._ _

__The sensation sent Richie into another fit of sobs as he threw himself forward and tightly clutched Eddie’s hand in his own. His head hung low while he cried, his tears dripping down onto his lenses and smearing them completely and rendering them useless. Eddie’s hand was so warm, so strong, so full of _life_. _ _

__“Richie,” Eddie said again. Richie didn’t even have to look up to see that the smile had faded from his face. “Richie?”_ _

__Richie wept, unable to bring himself to do anything else. His eyes burned as the raging fire in his throat spread across his body and constricted his chest. Jumping at the movement of Eddie’s hand in his, Richie finally jerked his head up to face Eddie’s. Tears spilled down his face uncontrollably as he sucked in harsh, uneven breaths._ _

___Eddie was awake._ _ _

__Eddie blinked at the sight, a few tears streaking down his face and over the scar on his cheek. Oh, it’d healed so nicely._ _

__“Rich,” Eddie whispered, his tone growing nervous as he extended his free hand to pull Richie’s glasses off of his face. Richie instinctively reached out for Eddie’s grasp when the man pulled away, but stopped when he saw Eddie start to quickly wipe the tears on Richie’s lenses away with his bed sheet. He turned back to face Richie moments later and reached out to slide the frames back onto his face. “There you go,” He said gently before reaching down and taking Richie’s hand back into his own._ _

__His view no longer obstructed by his tears, Richie truly looked upon Eddie for the first time. It was clear some time had passed, with his longer and unkempt hair. But those eyes, Richie knew those eyes anywhere. And for the first time, Richie stared down at Eddie without experiencing the same, clouding dread that haunted him so brutally for his entire life. Though the gnawing fear the clown left behind was still etched deeply into Richie’s mind, being here in Eddie’s presence swept it all away into hidden shadow._ _

__“Oh my god, Eddie,” Richie breathed again, his voice now stronger and filled with an everlasting fondness. Tears still streaming down his face, Richie reached out and placed a gentle hand on either side of Eddie’s face. He found himself beaming when his gaze met Eddie’s once again. An astonished, heartfelt laugh fell from his lips. Eddie mirrored Richie’s movements as he joined in his laughter, his hands now resting on Richie’s cheeks. They were still wet with tears under Eddie’s grasp._ _

__Richie’s heart leapt in his chest when Eddie pulled him forward until their foreheads touched, a shiver running through his body as memories of his time spent in the hospital all came flooding back. An unmatched exhilaration and unparalleled remorse battled ruthlessly in the fray of his mind._ _

__Deep breath, Tozier._ _

__Calm down._ _

__“You were on death’s fucking door, Eddie,” Richie breathed, his eyes falling shut as he finally regained the ability to speak. Seeing Eddie awake and okay reminded him of all the times in which he _wasn’t_. Neither of them moved from where they sat, foreheads still resting comfortably against each other. “You were fucking _dying_ , your heart stopped so many times, you got an infection, you needed a goddamn _liver transplant_ , you-” _ _

__“I know, Rich,” Eddie said quietly, his voice somehow growing even softer, “Joey told me everything.”_ _

__“Eddie, you nearly _died_ trying to save me,” Richie said as all the horrors of their week in the hospital threatened to overwhelm his thoughts. He could see the claw piercing Eddie’s abdomen, his lifeless face as they drove him to the hospital, his dying body as he waited so desperately for a transplant. A fate Eddie did nothing to deserve. “You didn’t have to do that...why… _why_ did you-” _ _

__Eddie frowned, a flash of hurt washing over his face. “Rich…”_ _

“Fuck,” Richie cursed as he pulled back to look Eddie in the eyes, keeping his hands where they were on Eddie’s face. He trembled a bit at the image of Eddie lying in the same bed three months ago, barely clinging to life. A man who put himself in that position for the sole purpose of saving Richie’s life. “I’m sorry, Eds, I just...you should’ve _seen_ yourself in that bed...you don’t know what it was like to sit there, watching you slowly die while we waited for a donor liver...you went through all of this bullshit...just because you went and saved _me_ …” 

__Another tear slipped from Eddie’s eye. He paused, letting Richie’s words sink in before speaking again. “You would’ve done the same for me, right?” He asked, staring at Richie expectantly until the man eventually let out a heavy sigh a nodded. Eddie’s face contorted again when his tone grew a bit darker. “I’m sorry for putting you through all of that,” He said, glancing down at his broken body, “It sounds like you guys went through a lot while you were here.”_ _

__“It’s not your fault, Eds, it’s not like you _intended_ to get stabbed,” Richie smirked as he sniffed, finally gaining some control over his composure again. _ _

__Eddie’s eyes glistened as he chuckled in response, the sweet sound nearly sending Richie to the floor...something he’d never take for granted again. Shifting his thumb, Richie reached over and wiped the tear away from Eddie’s cheek. “I’m not gonna downplay it, though. It sucked major ass.”_ _

__Another soft laugh fell from Eddie’s mouth, and this time Richie joined him._ _

__“But you know what?” Richie asked as their hands slowly drifted from each other’s faces down to their shoulders. “That shit doesn’t matter anymore. None of it matters, because you’re here now and you’re awake...and everything’s gonna be alright.”_ _

__A fond smile appeared on Eddie’s softening face, capturing Richie’s heart with it. The grin sent waves of a relieving comfort down to Richie’s core, giving him a new and welcoming warmth he hadn’t felt in a long time._ _

_You’re so beautiful, Eddie._

__“Eddie, listen…” Richie started, enamored tears welling in his eyes again as Eddie continued to beam at him. The same swell of fear and relief from when he was a child raced through his chest. “I’m...I’m really fucking glad you’re okay.”_ _

_Were you...scared...that you were gonna die? That day at Neibolt?_

_Uh, yeah. I guess so._

_I was scared. When we heard you screaming from downstairs, I thought...I thought It got you. I’m...glad It didn’t._

_Me too_. 

__“Me too, Rich,” Eddie sighs contently, his grin gradually shifting back to a soft half-smile._ _

__Something jolted within Richie in that moment, and _fuck_ was it strong. He’d hadn’t felt anything quite so powerful in years. It wasn’t apprehension...it was like an exhilarating bliss that rushed so quickly through his body it almost scared him. He had no clue what it was, not until his eyes fell upon Eddie once more. And as Richie gazed down at Eddie’s face and felt his warmth underneath his touch, Richie thought back to all the times in his life he’d experienced the same sensation. _ _

__Exhaling, Richie thought back to all the times in his life he could’ve said the words. One of the first times he’d felt it was the summer they fought It, when they’d lay beneath the stars and forget about their nightmares and the rest of the world. The sensation overcame him again and again that summer, like whenever they shared the hammock in the Clubhouse, or when they’d spend hours reading comic books on his bed in content quiet._ _

__The same feeling still came as they both grew older, too. It struck him hard as they leapt off the quarry’s cliff, hand-in-hand as they plummeted to the glistening water below, and even harder when he watched him from afar at prom as he tried to work himself up to ask for a dance. When they graduated high school, arms hooked around each other’s shoulders as they threw their caps into the air, the same rush washed over him like rain. The last time he’d felt it was the day he left Derry for college._ _

__But then Richie came back to Derry, and he still felt the same fucking way._ _

__The familiar swell of emotion first struck him at dinner as the pair teased and bickered with each other just as they had as children. It came later that night when he traveled to the Kissing Bridge in secret, and again as he re-carved their initials with a knife. In the library that next day, the sensation came to him in the form of a protective instinct when he saw the bandage covering his wounded cheek._ _

__It felt like a tender caress when he told him he was braver than he thought, and it felt like having his heart ripped from his chest as he clutched his wounded body in his arms, watching the life slowly drain from his face._ _

__Richie had so many chances._ _

__And he blew them all._ _

__Now, even though he probably didn’t even deserve it, something out there was giving him yet _another_ opportunity to utter the words. _ _

_Because you didn’t have to watch the love of your fucking life nearly die in your arms!_

__And this time, Richie refused to back away._ _

_Because I have something worth living for._

__Channeling the adrenaline that now flowed through his body, Richie peered down at Eddie with an affectionate gaze._ _

_It was him from the start. It was Eddie, even after all those years when I...forgot he existed. It was always him._

__It didn’t matter if Eddie didn’t feel the same way about him, but he had to know. After so many years lost and irreplaceable chances, Richie didn’t think he was physically capable of keeping it bottled up inside any longer. After learning Eddie was married, Richie wasn’t going to tell him anything, despite his desperate desire to confess it all...but then Eddie almost died. And Richie with him._ _

__If Richie didn’t tell Eddie now, then the clown would win and he absolutely could _not_ have that. _ _

__“Eddie, listen, I gotta tell you something, man…”_ _

__“Yeah?” Eddie asked, tilting his head ever so slightly._ _

__“It’s something that I…” Richie said, heart pounding so prominently in his chest he could barely think, “...Something that I should’ve said so long ago…”_ _

_I fucked your mom_. 

__Not that, dumbass._ _

__Eddie’s eyes narrowed in concern at the serious uncharacteristic tone in Richie’s voice. “...What is it?”_ _

__Fuck it._ _

__Here goes everything._ _

__“Remember that summer where we got in that big fight and didn’t see each other for a while?” Richie asked as he struggled to keep his voice from shaking._ _

__Eddie nodded._ _

__“I spent a lot of time at the arcade, playing Street Fighter,” Richie started, cringing at that awful memory flashing through his mind as he spoke. “Well, uh...Bowers, and the other kids, they...called me some fucking awful things...things that scared the shit out of me because...they knew something about me that I didn’t even fully understand _myself_ …”_ _

__Richie paused, and Eddie stared back in a tense silence, his expression unreadable._ _

__Keep going, Tozier._ _

__Just get it out._ _

__“That’s when I, uh, started to realize that I was...that I…” Richie cut himself off, exhaling a frustrated sigh as he tried to stop the very visible trembling of his hands. Eddie waited patiently, eyes flooding with concern at seeing Richie so distraught. “...I went to the Kissing Bridge after that, and...I, uh...I took my pocket knife and carved our initials there...”_ _

__Eddie’s eyes grew wide, color draining from his face as he stared back at Richie with a face he still couldn’t quite read. Fuck, why was he looking at him like that? Shit, shit, shit. Maybe he should just shut the fuck up and get out while he still can-_ _

__“Rich, I don’t understand,” Eddie said quietly, unblinking as he stared Richie. The look in his eyes sent another wave of panic through Richie, but he pushed himself to continue despite all of his instincts telling him to _run_. _ _

__Just fucking say it, Tozier._ _

__Don’t let that stupid, motherfucking clown win._ _

__“I did it because I’m in love with you, Eddie Spaghetti,” Richie confessed, the words causing an eruption in his chest of nearly every emotion at once. He trembled so badly he could barely get the words out, but he forced himself to keep going. “I loved you more than anything else, and I still do. Listen, man, I know you’re married and you don’t even swing that way, but...this is what It used against me all that time, ever since we were kids...and I felt like if I never told you, I’d be letting It win. I needed you to know how much I care about you, and how nothing will ever change that.”_ _

_Eddie, my love..._

__Richie exhaled, his hands still trembling against Eddie’s shoulders. He took a few short moments to regain his composure before finally bringing his eyes back up to meet Eddie’s._ _

_Oh, Eddie…_

__A crippling fear struck Richie’s heart when he was met with a fierce stoic expression, the sight sending an unnerving shiver down his body. Eddie’s eyes were even wider now than they were before, and his mouth hung open as he intensely searched for something in Richie’s expression._ _

_Eddie…_

__The silence was unbearable, dragging every moment into a restless eternity. A void that Richie felt himself spiraling down at an ever-growing speed, his desire to escape now taking over once more. Sensing his weakness, the darkening thoughts that fled his mind now came rushing back at an overwhelming speed. They consumed him in seconds._ _

_You...You’re one of them?_

_Richie Tozier sucks flamer cock._

_Do NOT fucking touch me!_

__Pained ripped through his heart as fresh, stinging tears welled in his eyes and threatened to spill. He could feel the fire now, and it was so incredibly hot. Unable to breathe, Richie clenched his body in pain as the flames swept over him and consumed him whole. He saw Eddie as a child, weeping over his wounds down in the cavern as he _screamed_ at Richie to get away from him and to not fucking touch him. Because he was one of _them_. Those eyes...Richie could have sworn he saw that same look in Eddie’s expression now, judging him as he stared back in a panicked awe. _ _

_Richie fucking Tozier? Wait, are you trying to bone my little cousin?_

__Unable to bear the troubled look on Eddie’s face, Richie made to pull his hands away and stand._ _

_Get the fuck out of here, faggot!_

__Forced to flee, just like he did at the arcade all those years ago._ _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Home from Home - Roo Panes 
> 
> Bright young sun, it looks like the morning's come  
> And it's all come so easy like the heavens are wishing me well  
> And those dawning eyes brought forth my own sunrise  
> Well it's been a long time since the beat of my heart was a friend  
> Oh well, It's been a long time since I felt I was breathing again
> 
> In you I've found my home from home  
> I left all that I knew for a love that I know
> 
> So fresh air, open ways, mild nights, wild days  
> Wondering in wonder, pondering what wandering we'll do  
> I guess I don't care about what, when, or where  
> Because I'm starting to realise the question worth asking is, who?  
> I'm starting to realize the question worth answering is you
> 
> In you I found my home from home  
> Left all that I knew for a love that I know
> 
> And that grip you prized me from I was already trying to lose  
> It was holding me, to hold me back from you
> 
> I guess it's funny, this two-fold irony  
> I guess it's funny, this two-fold irony  
> Greatest victory through my own defeat  
> Greatest victory through my own defeat


	31. Can't Look Away

It’d been real. 

_...I went to the Kissing Bridge after that, and...I, uh...I took my pocket knife and carved our initials there…_

That whole time, sealed off in another plane and forced to watch his friends move on without him. Trapped in a timeless cage without a voice to call out for help. Everything he’d heard, everything he’d _felt_...it wasn’t fiction at all. 

_I did it because I’m in love with you, Eddie Spaghetti._

It never was. 

Eddie felt the steady drum of his heartbeat grow stronger with every word that poured from Richie’s mouth, dancing with bliss as he witnessed the confession he thought to be nothing but a fleeting dream. A figment of his own desire, twisted to bring a newfound understanding of himself in a world where he walked unseen. A shadow of his former self that would never see the true light of day again, or feel its warmth on his bare skin. 

Surely, he was still lost in that same fantasy. 

But he couldn’t be. 

There was _warmth_ enveloping every fiber of his being as he clung to Richie with a sense of fulfillment. Eddie took in every moment as he lost himself in the heat of Richie’s hands resting on his shoulders. He’d never felt so grateful to feel beads of sweat forming on his forehead, a new fire sparking within his heart. It was something he’d never take for granted again. 

_I loved you more than anything else, and I still do._

Eddie blinked back tears at those words, unable to mask his shocked elation. He felt his vision grow hazy as a wave of dizziness rushed over him, his face draining of color at the sensation. It wasn’t until Richie paused to collect himself did Eddie notice how violently his hands trembled against his shoulders. He’d never seen Richie so terrified in his life, not even when facing the clown. 

Richie loved him. 

Richie Tozier was in love with him, and it was real. 

Eddie’s mind raced at an alarming speed as he suddenly pieced everything together. Things that he’d missed before, things he’d looked over or never took a second glance at. The signs were all there, they always had been. Eddie just didn’t know how to see it before now, both within Richie and within himself. 

_I spent a lot of time at the arcade, playing Street Fighter_. 

Richie never told him what Bowers and the others called him, not in this world. But in Eddie’s dream? Richie said it all. Eddie remembered that moment precisely, far too vividly than what he preferred. He could still feel the pain that raked Richie’s voice as he spoke the words out loud to the others in what he now knew was his very own hospital room. Words that sliced Eddie’s heart with the finesse of a fine blade. 

_This is a token from the Capitol Theater._

_You brought an actual token?_

_Yeah, man. That’s what you’re supposed to do, asshole._

Pain ripped through Eddie’s chest at the realization of what tremendous significance that tiny metal token held for Richie. Something he’d kept locked away from the others for his entire life. A torment that, in some ways, Eddie could understand. Richie wasn’t the only one who’d repressed his feelings when he’d grown too afraid of what they meant. 

A flash of grief struck him while he was already down, adding to the growing torture of his own intrusive thoughts. All that time, they’d felt the same way, even if they never fully understood it until much later. Eddie couldn’t help but wonder how their lives would have changed if one of them had just said the words. He thought about the time they’d lost because of the fear the clown instilled in them both, the time they could have had together. Eddie envisioned what could have been if only he’d taken the leap. If only he’d stood up for himself sooner instead of just walking away. 

Though the scar had since vanished from his hand, Eddie could clearly remember the day they stood side-by-side around Bill, promising an oath to him that they’d return to fight the clown. His hand burned like it’d caught fire, a searing pain shooting through his wrist and all the way up his arm. That pain vanished, though, if for just the shortest moment, when he embraced Richie. The act gave him the reassurance he needed to know he’d done the right thing, despite the growing fear that bubbled inside him. Richie had always been an anchor to him, weighing him down when the racing thoughts in his head carried him too far into the clouds. He liked it when Richie hugged him. 

But then, Eddie turned his back and walked away. 

Eddie still remembered the day Richie left for college, having had to relive the memory in his dream all over again. Christ, his heart raced at the mere thought of it. Sitting there in the car with Richie, staring into each other’s eyes with a veiled longing he still didn’t know was there. At the time, it’d been the worst pain Eddie felt in his life, far worse than the day he’d broken his arm at Neibolt. 

_I, uh, I...I know it’s not that far, but...I...listen, Eddie...I’m gonna...I...I’ll-_

_I’ll miss you too, Rich._

But now? Eddie couldn’t help but wonder what Richie was really trying to say, and what was really hiding behind the easy-going facade he’d kept up that entire conversation. It only broke for a mere second, Eddie barely catching the blush on his cheeks when he tried to frantically glance the other direction. 

And in his ignorance, Eddie got out of the car and let Richie drive away. 

Down in the cavern, Richie nearly left Eddie to die. He’d already lost so much blood and his skin had grown so pale. Eddie sat against the rocks, consciousness quickly fading as the other Losers approached him from across the rocky ground. Eyes having fallen shut, Eddie laid sprawled out atop the rocks, too drained of strength to move. Blackness overcame his thoughts when he felt the rumbles of approaching footsteps on either side of him. And before Eddie drifted into the deepening abyss that outstretched before him, he heard Richie’s screams as he called his name. 

But Richie never gave up on him, and fought to get him out. 

Richie didn’t walk away that time. 

And he saved Eddie’s life. 

A harsh squeeze of Eddie’s shoulders pulled him back to the present, his eyes landing on Richie’s before a rush of horror coursed through his heart. Richie stared down at him, as if waiting for an answer, as tears welled in his eyes and threatened to spill. His hands trembled with even greater fear against his shoulders. Eddie opened his mouth in shocked anguish as Richie’s body tensed beside him. 

Their stares never broke.

Suddenly, something shifted in Richie’s expression, as if a switch had been flipped. Something was wrong, Eddie could feel it when he spotted the same look of terror on his face that he’d seen down in the cavern. He jumped when Richie suddenly made to pull away, lifting his shaking hands from Eddie’s shoulders and shifting his feet to stand. 

Richie was walking away.

Without thought, Eddie’s hands shot out and tightly gripped Richie’s wrists in an unbreakable hold. The man fought back at first, trying to yank away his hands instinctively. 

No, don’t you dare let him go, Eddie. 

Exerting himself, Eddie forced himself to sit up again and pulled Richie’s wrist back down towards the bed. Richie stopped fighting almost immediately as a perplexed and apprehensive expression overcame his face. 

Don’t you fucking dare let him slip away again, not after getting this second chance to finally set things right. 

Eddie pulled again until they were finally eye-level, only letting go of Richie’s wrists until their faces were mere inches apart. Heart pounding, he shot his hands to quickly grasp either side of Richie’s face without hesitation. 

Take the goddamn leap, Eddie. 

Pushing away the fears that’d tormented him for so many years, Eddie caught a glimpse of Richie’s gaze and stared back at him with a look of pure adoration and longing. Eddie’s heart fluttered when he took one final breath, never feeling so certain about something in his entire life as leaned forward and kissed Richie on the lips. 

He thought he’d felt bliss before. 

But this was not that. 

This one act took everything that’d been building up inside him for so long and thrust it into the light. That darkness, unable to bear a purity of such intensity, collapsed upon themselves as they wailed at their own self-destruction. They became nothing but dust as the dawn of his new tenacity made its presence known, sweeping his mind with a liberating lucidity he’d so desperately longed for all his life. 

Richie tensed against him at first, overcome with shock and denial, before slowly melting into the hands that still cusped his face. The pair shifted, sealing another kiss as Eddie brought his hands to the back of Richie’s head and neck to pull him even closer. 

Oh my god. 

Oh my _god_ , this felt so _right_. 

And it was all real. Eddie knew it was because, unlike the tragedy of his dream in which he’d been faced with an unreciprocated declaration of love, Richie kissed him back. He could feel the warmth of his lips on his own, relishing in the breadth of life that spread through him after being deprived of the sensation for so long. 

So this was what he’d been missing his entire life. 

It was Richie who pulled back first, the hands he’d placed on Eddie’s neck and shoulder now slowly sliding their way down his arms. His eyes were wide as endless thoughts raced through them all at once, impeding him from speaking until he finally caught his breath. “Wait, Eddie,” Richie gasped, his expression morphing into that of shock as he began to sober up from the high he’d just experienced, “What the _fuck_?” 

Eddie blinked back at him, breathing hard. 

“Aren’t you married?! Aren’t you...you’re not...you don’t...like...” Richie shaking his head quickly as he pushed through the newfound panic washing over his face, “Why did you do that? Are you...are you _fucking_ with me right now? Cause that’d be pretty messed up, even in _my_ book-” 

“No,” Eddie answered quickly, still catching his breath. His chest burned a bit as he remembered the damage that was done to his lung and diaphragm during the fight. He ignored it. 

“No, what?” Richie asked as his eyes frantically searched Eddie’s for an answer. 

“No, I’m not married,” Eddie answered firmly, eyes gleaming with so much emotion he could barely contain it all. “Or I won’t be, soon. Not anymore.” 

“The fuck are you talking about, Ed-”

“The first thing I did when after waking up was tell Myra that I wanted a divorce,” Eddie interrupted. He’d raised the volume of his voice a bit to talk over Richie’s growing panic. 

“You...you what?” Richie gaped, face paling. He fully sat down on the bed again, leaning forward as if he’d heard Eddie wrong. “...I’m sorry...you _what_?” 

“Richie…” Eddie said softly, extending an open hand forwards. He watched Richie’s eyes fall down to it and stare at it for a long time before slowly clasping his hand with Eddie’s. Exhaling slowly, just like Joey told him to, Eddie gave Richie’s hand a squeeze as he flicked his eyes back up to meet his gaze. Christ, he felt so _light_ , like this weight he never knew was on his shoulders suddenly vanished into thin air. He wanted to scream his love for Richie to the _world_. “...I heard everything, Rich.”

Richie pointedly frowned, opening his mouth to speak before Eddie shot him a look to shut the fuck up and let him finish. Richie listened. 

“When I was lying here in that coma, I heard it all,” Eddie explained as his expression softened again. He reached over and placed his other hand on top of Richie’s, feeling the man tense up beneath him as he spoke. “I heard you say how you felt about me. I thought it was just a dream at first, but I was there for every second of it. I heard everything you said, everything you went through...I heard it _all_ , Rich. I was right here and I was listening the whole time.” 

“Eddie…” Richie gasped, staring at Eddie with pure awe as he squeezed his hand tightly around Eddie’s. Infatuated with the glisten in Richie’s uplifting expression, Eddie felt himself spill a few tears of his own down his face. 

“You asked me why I saved you at Neibolt before,” Eddie continued with an affectionate smile, a sense of euphoria washing over him at the solidifying devotion in his heart. This was the start of a new beginning. One they’d been searching for their entire lives, not knowing it was right beside them from the start. “You wanna know the real reason I saved you?”

Richie nodded, eyes widening with disbelief as he leaned in closer for the answer. 

“I did it because I love you too, Richie,” Eddie confessed, every word breaking away at the stones in his heart until he was finally freed. He was no longer bound to his fear by the restraints placed there by everyone he’d let control him. Assurance swelled within Eddie as he ensured to himself that he was the only one in control from now on, and that he’d never let anyone manipulate him again. More tears streamed down his face at the notion. 

Richie sat back a bit. His breaths came in fast gasps as that same dorky grin Eddie loved so much appeared on his face. Eddie peered at him and saw disbelief, but also a building elation that made his eyes gleam with the most astounding relief. Richie broke into a shocked laugh as he reached up to cup Eddie’s face in his hands. “...You love me?” 

“Yes,” Eddie laughed with him, blinking back more tears as his grin widened. He reached back up to place his hands back on Richie’s face once more. “I love you so fucking much, Rich.” 

Blinking, Richie laughed again, seemingly oblivious to the tears that now spilled down his own cheeks and onto Eddie’s fingers. He released a shuddering breath as he stared intently at his best friend. “I love you too, Eddie Spaghetti.” 

“I know,” Eddie smirked, not hesitating to pull Richie back into another kiss. He held nothing back this time, no longer afraid of the shadows that lurked in his mind for so long. They had no power over him, not anymore, and not with Richie at his side again. Eddie was gay. He was in love with Richie Tozier. And it was something he’d never been so happy about in his entire life. 

_Be who you want to be._

It was something he finally felt he could be proud of. 

_Be proud._

The kiss itself was barely one at all, for once their lips touched they couldn’t stop smiling like idiots. They laughed again when their smiles grew even wider, giggling like children as their foreheads touched once more. It was everything Eddie could have ever wanted and more. Neither of them moved for a long time, even after their fits of laughter finally dwindled down to fond but quiet smiles. 

“Eds,” Richie breathed, chuckling again as their noses brushed against each other, “You should know, you’re a _way_ better kisser than your mom.” 

Oh my fucking god. 

Eddie might just punch him, he might actually do it. 

“Are you shitting me? Are you being serious right now?” Eddie grimaced in disbelief, “And for fuck’s sake, stop calling me Eds!” He pulled back a bit to flip Richie off, which only elicited another loud fit of laughter from the man. Eddie rolled his eyes, “ _Fuck_ you, dude, seriously-”

“ _Oh_ , well _that_ can definitely be arranged,” Richie winked, snickering as he sealed his lips on Eddie’s to shut him up. It definitely seemed like Richie was on the same page here. They had nearly three decades to make up for, and this was certainly a good way to start. Eddie sighed through his nose, relaxing under Richie’s touch and suddenly forgetting why he was annoyed with him. Neither of them heard the footsteps approaching from the hallway until a startled voice sounded from the doorway. 

“Holy shit.” 

Eddie jerked back into his bed with a surprised gasp, his hand shooting above his heart as Richie whipped his head around to find Bill standing in the threshold. Heart still racing, Eddie stared at the man in the doorway and felt a surge of both happiness and embarrassment erupt in his chest. “Bill,” He breathed, the edges of his open mouth slowly curving upwards. 

Bill raised his eyebrows in surprise as a wide grin appeared on his face. “Wow, uh...h-hey Eddie.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Can't Look Away - Seafret 
> 
> I knew that we'd be more than friends  
> When I saw you shining  
> Somewhere in my heart I knew  
> Somewhere in my heart  
> Holding on to my belief  
> That you were another heart thief  
> Knew you'd pull my world apart  
> I knew it from the start
> 
> All the love you gave me  
> You know it made me strong  
> Feeling alive, now back to life  
> I know where I belong  
> I'll never let them break me  
> I'll never do no wrong  
> We're on fire, we're on fire  
> And we're burning up
> 
> I keep looking at you and it feels like  
> I've been staring at the sun, yeah you hurt my eyes  
> Can't look away, can't look away  
> I, I, I, I
> 
> We just keep on rising  
> Faster than the lightning  
> Looking down on all below  
> Trying to keep control  
> Now the grip is tightening  
> Gonna keep on fighting  
> Somewhere in my heart I know  
> Somewhere in my heart
> 
> All the love you gave me  
> You know it made me strong  
> Feeling alive, now back to life  
> I know where I belong  
> I'll never let them break me  
> I'll never do no wrong  
> We're on fire, we're on fire  
> And we're burning up
> 
> I keep looking at you and it feels like  
> I've been staring at the sun, yeah you hurt my eyes  
> Can't look away, can't look away  
> I, I, I, I  
> I keep looking at you and it feels right  
> I've been staring at the sun, got me hypnotized  
> Can't look away, can't look away  
> I, I, I, I
> 
> I need to see it, feel it, breathe it  
> Don't let the light go, light go  
> I need to see it, feel it, breathe it  
> Don't let the light go, light go
> 
> I keep looking at you and it feels like  
> I've been staring at the sun, yeah you hurt my eyes
> 
> I keep looking at you and it feels like  
> I've been staring at the sun, yeah you hurt my eyes  
> Can't look away, can't look away  
> I, I, I, I  
> I keep looking at you and it feels right  
> I've been staring at the sun, got me hypnotized  
> Can't look away, can't look away  
> I, I, I, I


	32. Fallen

_Go on, you can d-do it._

Richie stared at him, a new understanding quickly washing over his face. Bill smiled warmly at Richie when the man offered a silent expression of genuine thanks in return. Hands shoved awkwardly in hid front pockets, Bill stood a dozen feet away and watched Richie hesitantly enter Eddie’s room. He turned and pulled out his phone once Richie made it past the threshold. 

Bill knew how much this moment probably meant to Richie. He’d seen in first-hand, back at his home when it was just the two of them for nearly all hours of the day. Richie was fine at first, exceedingly hopeful about Eddie’s recovery. But then Eddie’s body started to heal without showing any signs of waking. Every week seemed to strike Richie with another deadly blow, every hit harder to stand up from than the last. 

The last few weeks were by far the worst. 

Richie was clearly showing signs of slipping back into his depression, and it terrified Bill to no ends. He’d never seen Richie so emotionally damaged in his life. As a kid he was always so upbeat and carefree, and Bill kicked himself for realizing he was hiding so much more behind a mask. Richie never opened up to any of them like this before, not that he knew. Bill was thankful that Richie finally bottled up his fears and confessed what he’d been feeling, but he was scared for him. 

The return of Richie’s nightmares was the first sign that something was wrong. Bill woke with a start the first night it happened, his heart racing as he sprinted down the hall to Richie’s room. Even though he knew the clown was long dead, Bill couldn’t shake his instinctive urge to search the room for It once inside. Facing that thing at Neibolt was the only time he’d ever heard Richie scream so fearfully. 

With every night came a dream even worse than the last, and Bill could see on Richie’s face how much he hated himself for his inability to shut them out. He’d apologize to Bill every time he burst into his room, his face scrunching with guilt for waking his friend during the dark hours of the night like clockwork. Another week passed and Richie became more withdrawn. He didn’t come down from his room as often, spoke far less than he had when he first arrived, and even skipped a few meals. 

And then Audra, she...she just up and left Bill. 

_I’m not one of your fucking stories, Bill!_

Her sudden departure tore holes in Bill’s heart like he’d never felt before, and yet, he did not pursue her as she fled to the door with a hastily-packed bag of belongings and left. He guessed he’d seen it coming, in a sense. Before leaving for Derry, Bill and Audra were already walking a fine line, with the stress of the filming getting to both of them. They’d grown distant a few months prior when Bill locked himself away in his study for hours and hours on end. 

_What’s wrong with being the woman I want you to be?_

_Fuck you, Bill!_

On the day Mike called, their argument on set didn’t end well. He’d told Audra he didn’t mean what he said, that he was only talking about her character rather than herself...but Bill wasn’t quite sure on how true that sentiment was. 

Earlier that day, he found out that Audra didn’t actually like his endings despite saying she had all those years. It was a silly, childish thing to be so upset about, and Bill was far too aware of that. But at the same time, he couldn’t help but wonder why she lied about it. They’d originally built their relationship on honesty. Now, it seemed that she kept her true thoughts locked away while constantly siding with the studio on decisions over her own _husband_. 

Whether it was something really serious, or just a bump in the road, Bill wasn’t sure. All he knew was that Audra left with a small bag of her things and hadn’t come back or contacted him since. He didn’t know what to make of it, not with everything else going on in his life right now. So much had changed since he got that phone call on set. No, not all of it was bad...but it was certainly overwhelming. 

The stress of everything made Bill very thankful for Richie, though. Having a friend in that large, empty house with him made things so much more bearable. Despite his ever-declining state as the weeks passed on, Richie never failed to make Bill laugh. And once Audra left, it was clear that Bill needed Richie just as much as Richie once needed him. 

But, for just this moment, Bill tried his best to throw on a smiling face and forget it all. 

Eddie was awake, after all, and that was something worth celebrating. 

Pulling out his phone, Bill unlocked his screen and quickly scrolled through his contacts for one name in particular. He tapped the call button and held his phone to his ear as he waited patiently for an answer. 

_”Hello?”_

“Hey, Stan,” Bill greeted, slowly strolling down the long hallway with his gaze directed out the passing windows. “Y-you on your way?” 

_”Oh, hi Bill. Yeah, uh, hold on...how much longer did you say, Patty?”_ Stanley asked someone else, his voice growing less distinct as he leaned away from the phone. A faint, feminine voice answered in the background of the other line. _”Thanks, baby-love. We should be there in thirty minutes or so.”_

”Perfect timing,” Bill answered with an excited rush as he continued on his unset path down the hallway. “We just got here probably fifteen minutes ago.” 

_”Are you with Eddie?”_ Stanley asked, his voice jumping an octave in expectation. 

“No, not yet,” Bill replied. He slowed to a stop, staring out the window before him as he rocked a bit on his feet. “R-richie’s in with him now, I thought it’d be better if I gave him a minute alone before I g-go in…”

 _”Mhm,”_ Stanley hummed, _“Yeah. He needed that, I think.”_

Bill nodded even though he knew Stanley couldn’t see him. “Text me when you get here?” 

_”Sure thing, see you soon.”_

“Bye Stan,” Bill said before hanging up and shoving his phone back into his pocket. He checked the time and saw about ten minutes had passed, deciding that was enough time to wait outside. 

Bill felt a nervous tug in his stomach as he started back towards Eddie’s room. He recalled what Eddie looked like on his first days here, his body slowly losing the fight against itself. The man’s condition grew worse with every passing hour, and it was near impossible to watch. 

Despite the other’s comforting words, Bill still felt the same guilt he had before. That it was _his_ fault the Losers got dragged into his mess in the first place. Yes, Stanley had a pretty damn good point that if the clown never showed up and took Georgie in the first place, then none of this ever would’ve happened. But didn’t that make it his fault for what happened to his brother? 

The question haunted Bill for years, and after returning to Derry? It all came crashing back, re-opening the wounds that never fully healed and crumpling Bill’s world into dust. 

_We deserve to die_.

Bill remembered his encounter with It in the form of his younger self. 

_You were the best big brother there ever w-w-w-was._

He remembered the sting of It’s words all too well and how they tore at his heart from the inside-out.

_NO! We KILLED our little brother!_

_He loved you. And just because you didn’t wanna play on a rainy day j-just one time? That does not make it our f-fault._

It’d taken so many years for Bill to come to terms with what happened when he was younger, and he continued to struggle with the loss all the way through high school. But he had his friends, the other Losers...they were always there to comfort him. They were the only ones who understood. 

But even then, it’s what Bill did next that led them into such peril, wasn’t it? When Bill took Richie and Eddie in to find the clown at the well house and was almost _killed_ in the process, they could’ve left that whole thing alone right then and there. His friends _begged_ him to stop hunting the clown loads of times, acting more terrified than they’d ever been. But Bill pushed them onward. 

_It’s summer...we should be outside…_

_No offense Bill, but I don’t wanna end up like G-...I don’t wanna go missing either._

_It’s summer! We’re supposed to be having fun!_

_No! No next time, Bill, you’re insane!_

_Georgie is dead, stop trying to get us killed, too!_

_I fucking told you, I don’t wanna die. It’s your fault._

But they were all still alive. 

They beat the clown and survived, together. 

Their lifetime of fighting, however, was not without cost. Two of them came so close to death that the memories of those moments still haunted Bill to this day, and it probably would for the remainder of his life. He reminded himself of that as he pictured Eddie’s dying body in his mind, watching as his friend’s life slowly slipped farther from his grasp. 

But Eddie was awake now. 

Eddie was awake, and he was gonna be okay. 

Rounding the final turn towards Eddie’s room, Bill exhaled a deep breath and rolled his shoulders a few times to shake his nerves. He was still pretty sore from sitting in that plane seat for eight hours straight. Bill hesitated for a moment when he heard laughter coming from the room, smiling softly to himself at the pleasant sound. Richie hadn’t laughed so genuinely in _weeks_. 

Bill stopped abruptly in his tracks when he crossed the threshold, however, the sight before him so shocking he’d nearly fallen back into the hallway. Richie sat in the chair beside Eddie’s bed, the same one he’d occupied every single day while they were here. The man was leaning forward against the edge of the bed, hands grasping Eddie’s face-

_Eddie._

A swell of emotions rushed through Bill’s chest when he spotted his friend awake, sitting up in bed, hands wrapped tightly around Richie’s shoulders, _kissing him_. 

“Holy shit,” Bill breathed without thought, smirking when the startled pair jerked backwards with a gasp.

Richie and Eddie were kissing. 

What the actual hell? Bill had only left them alone for _ten_ minutes! 

But...holy shit. 

Richie and Eddie had been _kissing_. 

“Bill,” Eddie breathed as his eyes lit up in recognition, a small smile growing on his face despite the evident embarrassment that also lingered there. 

That was Eddie’s voice. 

But the man laying in the bed didn’t look like its original owner, though. Bill had never seen Eddie’s hair so long and unkempt, and he’d most certainly _never_ seen Eddie with a beard before. It was disorienting at first, but Bill could quickly see the Eddie he knew buried beneath as their eyes finally met. “Wow,” Bill raised his eyebrows in surprise as a wide grin appeared on his face. He reached up to scratch the back of his head, “Uh...h-hey Eddie.”

Eddie chuckled in response, his head falling slightly as his cheeks tinged a light pink. Bill studied the pair closely as he walked to the opposite side of Eddie’s bed, watching Eddie toy with one of Richie’s hands in both of his own. His stare shot between both of their faces, taking in everything. 

Holy shit. 

In all honesty, Bill didn’t know whether Richie would tell him. Eddie was married, and to a _woman_ for that matter. But now, Bill wasn’t so sure. They had to take Eddie’s wedding ring off for his MRI’s, so Beverly kept it in her purse until they arrived here. She’d placed it on Eddie’s bedside table, and it sat there untouched the entire time they were here. But now? There was no sign of it anywhere. Bill didn’t bring it up, but made a mental note to ask about it later. Bill tried to get Richie to talk on their long plane ride across the country, his attempts to get his friend to open up all futile. Bill knew how much was racing through Richie’s mind. He could see it in his eyes as he stared at nothing out the plane’s window. 

But Richie _did_ tell Eddie, and Bill was elated. 

Bill remembered the raw, grief-stricken expression on Richie’s face as he screamed at them hysterically in Eddie’s room, breaking down before them under the weight of his re-surfacing fears. He was in a tremendous amount of pain, and Bill feared that, even after Richie felt comfortable around the other Loser’s again following his confessions, he’d burst trying to bury it in front of Eddie. 

Bill loved Richie unconditionally, and he always made sure Richie was reminded of that while they lived together in his home. He could never imagine the kinds of torment Richie faced as a kid, and how afraid and alone they must’ve made him feel. To see him still suffering from those same doubts as an adult had sent an intense fury pulsing through Bill. 

What Bill hadn’t expected was Eddie’s reaction. 

He wasn’t sure how the man would respond to such intimate news. But there were certainly things Bill must’ve missed between them when they were kids, something more that he didn’t know to look for until now. It was so clear in this moment, as Bill sat staring at Eddie’s lovestruck expression, that the way Richie felt about Eddie all those years was mutual. 

The way they gazed into each other’s eyes with such a warm intensity brought back so many memories of childhood, when they’d steal glances at each other wearing the exact same expression. Maybe Bill had noticed more about them than he originally thought. In all honesty, it was probably all of the “your mom” jokes that steered him away from that conclusion. Sitting across from two of his best friends in the world, Bill was so ecstatic to see Richie and Eddie so jubilant and enamored. 

They deserved each other and it made his heart soar. 

Bill shot a glance over to Richie before he spoke, offering a knowing expression of both immense pride and relief. Richie spotted it almost immediately, offering a firm nod of gratitude. His smile softening at Richie’s face, Bill finally turned back towards Eddie in astonished disbelief. He huffed a laugh, shaking his head back and forth as his smile widened. “I left y-you two alone for ten minutes,” He teased, “ _Ten_ minutes!” 

Richie and Eddie both chuckled, an invisible tension suddenly leaving their shoulders. Eddie seemed to glance at Richie on instinct, as if he expected the man to throw a retort with some sort of joke or comeback. Eddie blinked in surprise, however, when he found the man staring back at Bill with a relieved but bittersweet expression. Bill spotted the tears brimming at the corners of Richie’s eyes moments later, followed by Eddie squeezing Richie’s hand tightly in support. Richie squeezed back even tighter. 

Bill tried his hardest to hold his fading smile. It was more difficult than he anticipated after seeing Richie look at him like that. He’d never looked at Bill that way before in his entire life. Exhaling calmly, Bill spoke again. “Seriously, though. I’m...so incredibly happy for you b-both.” 

“...Thanks Bill,” Richie breathed lightly, quickly shooting up a hand to wipe away the single tear that slipped from his gleaming eyes. Bill smiled back at him before turning his attention to Eddie once more. 

“How are you feeling, Eddie?” Bill asked, leaning forward in his seat to lean both elbows on his thighs. “You really s-scared the shit out of us.” 

“Uh,” Eddie chuckled, letting his eyes fall for a moment. “A little overwhelmed right now, but good, I think.” 

A silence fell between them as Eddie’s gaze slowly drifted towards his legs. His expression faltered in the slightest fraction, but he regained his composure quickly when he turned back to face Bill. “Joey said my liver is working great, and that my diaphragm and lung grafts are fully healed even though they still hurt a bit,” He explained, “But, uh…” 

A short silence followed. 

“Eds?” Richie asked nervously from the other side of the bed as Eddie’s stare fell back to his legs again. Bill’s heart rate picked up in his chest as a nervous rush flowed through him. Something had changed in Eddie’s expression, something far darker. 

“...Joey did an exam on my legs today, to assess my spinal injuries and all...” Eddie continued solemnly, unable to look either of them in the eyes as he spoke, “I can’t feel anything from my mid-thigh to my ankle in my left leg.” 

Nobody spoke, a heavy quiet flooding the room. 

“But I could move my toes...Joey said that’s good…” Eddie continued, unable to bear the silence any longer. The strength of his voice wavered with immense grief. He spoke in a way that made it seem like it was more to convince himself of the truth rather than for Richie and Bill’s sake. “And I can feel at least a little bit everywhere on my right leg...so that’s good, too…”

Bill’s stomach twist at Eddie’s words. 

Eddie loved to run. 

Bill remembered watching him at his track meets in high school, sometimes accompanying Richie to some of the closer ones. Eddie always ran with a fire in his heart and a spark in his eyes that was only ever brought on by the thrilling exertion he felt when he pushed himself to his limits. And now, Eddie may never be able to experience that sensation again. 

“Oh, Eddie…” Richie’s face paled at the evident fear in Eddie’s voice. He scooped up the man’s hand in both of his own and grasping it tightly in one swift movement. Elbows resting on Eddie’s bed, Richie leaned forward and rested his lips and nose against the back of his closed fists. 

Eddie shot Richie a remorseful look, the gleam of bliss from his recent confession never fully leaving his eyes. It was a bittersweet sight watching their intimate exchanges of stares. “It’s okay, Rich,” Eddie exhaled gently, “Joey said there’s a chance I could gain some feeling back with therapy.” 

“That’s good,” Bill nodded as the unease in Eddie’s eyes slowly became more apparent as he struggled to uphold his composed demeanor. Something broke inside him at the sight, with it came all the same memories from childhood. The times when Bill pushed them to keep going, to keep hunting the clown against their own wishes. He sighed heavily with guilt. “Eddie…”

Eddie turned to face Bill, frowning at the sudden change of tone in Bill’s voice. 

“I’m so s-sorry for dragging you all into this mess when we were kids,” Bill muttered nervously, struggling to maintain eye-contact. “I never meant for anyone to get hurt.” 

“Bill…” Eddie started, his name softer than a whisper on his lips. 

Bill shrugged helplessly. “I know y-you all made your own decisions to come back to Derry, but...I’m the one who roped us into f-fighting It the first time, and I’m the one who had you promise you’d come back to do it again…”

“It wasn’t your fault,” Eddie breathed as he frowned with concern, “Oath or no oath, we all came back on our own terms.”

“And look where that g-got us…” Trailing off, Bill found himself staring at the blankets that covered Eddie’s legs with a conflicted expression. He knew what Stanley and Eddie told him were true, but that didn’t make him _feel_ any better at all. 

Eddie followed Bill’s stare and glanced down, breathing a sigh through his nose. He flashed a fond smile back at Bill that was laced with great sadness and relief. “Bill, if I could go back to the day Mike called _knowing_ what happens to me in the end...I’d come back every single time.” 

Bill blinked. “What-” 

“I’d rather get stabbed by that motherfucker a hundred times than spend the rest of my life without you Losers and forgetting that you even existed,” Eddie admitted, the resolute strength in his voice apparent. 

Tears pricked in Bill’s eyes, the stinging sensation forcing him to reach up and wipe his face with the back of his hand. He’d forgotten how incredibly _astounding_ Eddie’s loyalty was, even back when they were just young kids. If one of the Losers was ever in trouble or unsafe, Eddie never hesitated to stand by their side in defense of them. The clown took some of that away after it came, but a fragment of it was always still there. And now, it seems, Eddie finally found the missing piece. 

A sharp breath came from the other side of the bed, and Bill turned just in time to see Richie lowering his head so that his forehead now rested against his propped-up hands. Eddie’s hand still sat between them, tightly gripping one of Richie’s with a firm reassurance. After checking to ensure Richie was alright, Eddie turned back to face Bill. “What happened to me wasn’t your fault, Bill,” He said calmly, his expression morbid but genuine, “And neither was what happened to Stan.” 

What happened to Stanley?

Wait. 

Eddie didn’t know. 

_Eddie didn’t know._

And why _would_ he know? Joey didn’t know about Stanley’s accident, so how could they have possibly assumed that she told Eddie herself before they arrived? Wow, they didn’t think this through very well, did they?

The relief that pooled in Bill’s core at Eddie’s kind words were suddenly swept away with a crashing wave of panic. He saw Richie’s head shoot up in his peripheral vision, almost certain that his face mirrored the same dread building up inside him at an alarming pace. The color drained from Richie’s face a bit as his eyes grew wide when he and Bill finally exchanged nervous glances. Richie stared at Bill with a look of desperation, silently asking him what the hell they were supposed to say. 

Eddie caught on quickly to the sudden shift in atmosphere, shrinking into himself a bit after getting caught in the middle of his friends’ intense stare. “...What? What is it?” 

“Eddie...shit, I-” Bill huffed out a nervous breath, constantly glancing over towards Richie for validation of his wording. The man gave him a sharp nod of encouragement, but the gesture did nothing to calm the growing storm within himself. He could see the look Stanley’s face while Mike read his letter aloud appear in his mind. Stanley wore a stoic expression of both dread and remorse, and the sight tore Bill apart from the inside. “You g-gotta promise not to freak out when I tell you this, okay?” 

“What’s going on?” Eddie asked as his eyes narrowed suspiciously, a fear far different from the last now flooding his eyes. “Dude, you’re scaring me…” 

“It’s...it’s just that...w-we-”

“Just tell me, what is it?” Eddie pushed, growing impatient as his expression morphed into a fearful one. 

Bill sucked in a deep breath, held it for a moment, and then let it out. “...When we, um, got here...after they operated on y-you, we...we got a phone call f-f-from, uh...th-th-th-th-they-”

Richie took over, knowing Bill’s stutter only ever got this bad when his stronger emotions got the best of him. Bill knew Richie could see the pain that surely flooded his eyes. He gave a small nod of thanks before Richie picked up where Bill left off. “Eddie…” Richie breathed as he gave another reassuring squeeze on Eddie’s hand. “...Stan’s alive.” 

As children, Richie had always been the biggest trash-mouth of the group...but Eddie? Eddie was the motor-mouth. When Bill first met him, he was _convinced_ Eddie was physically incapable of shutting up for more than five minutes at a time. He would ramble on and on excessively until someone finally told him to stop. Not Richie, though, now that Bill thought about it. Richie never once asked Eddie to stop talking. 

_Stan’s alive._

In this moment, however, those two mere words slipped from Richie’s mouth so abruptly that tore away at Eddie’s world and fragmented his memories. Eddie sat, frozen, in a stunned and silent denial. Bill didn’t blame the man, either. He’d spoken with Stanley on the phone at the hospital multiple times as he recovered from his injuries, but it wasn’t until Bill saw him in person did he truly believe it was real. Eddie was probably the same. Eddie laid with his back against the pillows propped up behind him with head falling back onto them as he processed the news. Despite his supine position and tight grip on Richie’s hands, he looked as though he was about to pass out from dizziness. 

For a moment, Bill nearly thought the motor in Eddie’s mouth was busted, but then his friend began to speak quickly between rapid, choppy breaths. “What the _fuck_ do you mean he’s alive?” He asked, his bottom lip quivering a bit as his mouth hung open with shock. “...We called him...at the restaurant...his wife, she said he...his wrists…”

“Y-yeah,” Bill answered, finally gaining control over his speech once again, “That happened.” 

“But…” Eddie continued. His eyes darted between Richie and Bill’s apprehensive gazes. “...the letter...I _heard_ the letter, I heard Mike read it while I was out...I heard the whole thing, I...I don’t understand-”

Bill threw a confused look towards Richie at the mention of Stanley’s letter. Eddie was out for that entire time, so there was no way he could possibly know about that...right? Bill’s perplexed expression only intensified when Richie shot him a quick glance that said “I’ll explain later.” 

“Eddie,” Richie said as he turned back to face Eddie, keeping his voice low and calm, “Stan was here.” 

“What?” Eddie breathed heavily, the word coming out almost like a whine when his oncoming panic raised his voice three octaves. 

Bill sucked in a deep breath before exhaling it slowly through his nose, pushing aside the images rendering in his brain of Stanley’s near-death encounter. “What Bev s-saw about Stan’s death, it was true...that really happened. But his wife, Patty, she found him before we lost him and got him to the hospital. He probably lost just about as much blood as you did, Eddie, and his heart s-stopped for f-fourteen minutes.” 

Eddie watched in horrified silence, eyes unblinking as he absorbed every word of Bill’s retelling of the events he so clearly missed, despite his apparent ability to hear what they’d been saying the entire time…

“But Stan lived,” Bill breathed, repeating those short words again and again in his mind to remind himself of reality, while trying his best to push out what could’ve been. “He started getting better the same night we beat It...and he had to stay in the hospital for a f-few days. Both him and Patty flew out here the moment he was discharged.” 

Releasing a shuddering breath, Eddie’s widening eyes started to frantically glance between Richie and Bill once again as if searching for authenticity. To see if they were playing some kind of sick joke on him, or perhaps...to see if he was still dreaming. Bill panicked and shot Richie a worried expression when he saw Eddie’s hands shaking. 

“But the letter-” Eddie started, his voice now wavering and full of uncertainty. 

“He wrote the letters before he, uh...you know,” Richie answered quickly, cutting Eddie off in an attempt to calm his panic before he lost control of it. Bill caught the conflicted expression on Richie’s face but didn’t mention it. “Stan said he still wanted us to read them, that they had a lot of lessons he’d learned written inside them...things that were important for us to hear.”

“But-” Eddie said again, shaking his head frantically as he pulled both hands up to his head and pressed down _hard_. He was ensnared far too deeply in his own denial. “I...I don’t-” 

“He’s okay, Eddie, we’re all okay,” Bill said quickly, trying his best to calm Eddie down. He scooted his chair forward and extended his arm to place a hand on his friend’s shoulder. Eddie didn’t seem to notice, though, for he was far too caught up in his panicked breathing. One of the monitors adjacent to Eddie’s bed started beeping in alarm as Eddie succumbed to his confusion, becoming disoriented. 

Shit. 

“Hey, hey, hey, hey,” Richie breathed quickly as he stood from his chair and sat back down on the very edge of Eddie’s bed in one fluid movement, “Eds, calm down.” He reached out and gently grasped Eddie’s wrists and tried to pull his hands down from where they partially covered his face. “Remember what we said about _not_ freaking out?! Come on, Eds, deep breaths...”

“ _Stop_ calling me Eds, asshole!” Eddie snapped between his sharp gasps, “You’re not helping!” 

Bill retracted his hand at the sharp response, afraid that what Eddie needed was some space. But Richie didn’t move. Feeling helpless, Bill watched in silence as a small smirk appeared on Richie’s face. Eddie used to say that to him all the time when they were kids and, despite the time gap, Eddie sounded exactly as he had before. A few seconds later, though, Richie’s smirk disappeared and was replaced by a much more serious stare. 

“Alright then, Eddie, my love,” Richie whispered calmly, his voice so quiet Bill could barely hear it over the sounds of Eddie’s panic attack and the harsh beeping of his monitors. “I need you to take some deep breaths for me, okay?” 

Eddie’s expression softened almost instantly as he let Richie pull his hands down from his head. He stared at Richie, suddenly transfixed, as he allowed Richie to guide him through some slower, deeper breaths. Richie never let go of Eddie’s hands as he did, holding them tightly where they now laid in Eddie’s lap. 

They were so natural together. 

And the strangest part was that all of their interactions were almost identical to those they had as kids, yet also completely different. Richie always had a soft spot for Eddie, Bill noticed it when they were quite young. He was very protective of him despite his near-constant teasing and bickering. 

_Eddie, my love_. 

Hearing that nickname brought new memories flooding back to the forefront of Bill’s mind, all of them consisting of the times Richie called Eddie the same name when they were younger. But now, those words held an entirely new meaning. Bill could see it in the way Eddie stared back at Richie after hearing the familiar phrase used again for the first time. Bill found himself smiling as he watched Eddie calm down within seconds, his monitor alarm shutting off as his breaths finally started to shallow. Richie leaned forward and carefully pulled Eddie into a light embrace, extremely aware of Eddie’s injuries and taking extra care not to put too much pressure on them. He met Richie’s gaze when he rested his head on Eddie’s shoulders, the man wearing an unfamiliar expression to Bill. 

It was a very rare sight to see Richie open up about his feelings without the interruption of jokes or light-hearted banter as forms of distraction. It’s what he’d always done as a kid, and even as an adult up until the week they spent in the hospital. Bill had noticed the habit, but never understood why he did so until the night he finally opened up in a fit of screams and cries. 

_Because you didn’t have to watch the love of your fucking life nearly die in your arms!_

Richie being so gentle with Eddie, so tender, was such a lovely sight. Before his confession, Richie never would’ve let anyone see him so open and vulnerable for the attacks he always feared. But now, as Richie held Eddie so gingerly in his arms, Bill saw an entirely new person. A person who embraced who they were and trusted their friends enough to feel safe opening up about something so personal. That’s what Bill saw in Richie’s eyes, a new trust that wasn’t there before. After everything the clown put Richie through, and after emotionally isolating him so cruelly from the people he sought out for protection? Bill didn’t blame him. It wasn’t Richie’s fault in the slightest. But now, It was dead and Richie was finally free to confidently be himself. 

Bill had never felt more proud of him. 

Another ten minutes must’ve passed in silence as Richie held Eddie in a comforting embrace. A nurse had poked her head into the room just moments after the monitor stopped beeping, checking to make sure everything was alright. Bill gave her an affirming nod to ensure Eddie was fine. Once left alone again, Bill turned his attention back to the others. One of Richie’s hands had drifted up to the back of Eddie’s head, and Richie quietly weaved his hand through the overgrown locks of hair with a soft half-smile on his face. “Feeling better, Eddie?” He asked, pulling back and placing both hands on Eddie’s shoulders. 

Eddie nodded, letting out a deep breath before laying back against his pillows. Relief flooded through Bill when an awe-struck smile gradually appeared on Eddie’s face. “Stan...he’s…” He started, his mind seeming like it finally processed what they’d told him. “Stan’s alive?” 

Richie grinned and nodded quickly, “He sure is.” 

Eddie laughed this time, his smile widening as he repeated the phrase again, this time with more confidence, “Stan’s alive.” 

“Stan’s alive,” Bill responded with the same, joyous grin as Eddie’s eyes flitted back to him. 

“Holy shit,” Eddie laughed again, “Stan’s alive!” 

Richie, still sitting on the edge of Eddie’s bed, reaching down and placed a hand on top of Eddie’s as he joined in Eddie’s shocked laughter. 

“We won,” Eddie gasped with sudden realization, his gaze fixed on Bill as he spoke, “Holy shit, we _won_! It didn’t get a single one of us, we WON!” 

Both Richie and Bill sighed with relief as they watched Eddie beam. His eyes glimmered with a light so bright Bill could’ve sworn he saw the sun within them. The sensation was alleviating, and it was everything Bill needed after such a hard few weeks. And as difficult as it was, Bill found himself caught in a war between his opinions of Eddie’s earlier sentiment. 

_I’d rather get stabbed by that motherfucker a hundred times than spend the rest of my life without you Losers and forgetting that you even existed._

But as Eddie’s words played again in his mind, all Bill could see was the face of that boy in the house of mirrors. The kid he couldn’t save. His stomach twisted at the memory as a wave of nausea struck him where it hurt. Bill knew he would’ve moved mountains in order to see and remember the Losers again, but knowing that kid, along with so many others in the past...like Georgie...were all lost? It was something Bill knew would haunt him forever. 

As Bill watched Richie and Eddie laugh with such joy, a single tear dripped down his face. So many people were lost to It’s reign of terror, but what Bill had to remember was that so many _more_ people would be saved because of what they did. The Losers Club all survived their fights with the clown...some of them saved in more ways than one. 

No matter what happened next, at least they were finally free. 

Bill smiled at the notion.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fallen - Gert Tabemer
> 
> Tell me things you've never said out loud  
> Just try and go there if you can  
> Show me the parts of you you're not that proud of  
> I want to know, I'm just a man
> 
> I'll have you know that I have good and bad days  
> Come on now, love, don't be naive  
> Lay out our cards and you'll see all my mistakes  
> Well, I don't mind while you're with me
> 
> When have I fallen  
> Am I crawling on my knees?  
> Here I'm calling  
> In the hope that you'll see me
> 
> This voice inside of me has lost its breath  
> It's far too tired to sing at ease  
> All of the things I never said out loud  
> They will remain inside of me
> 
> Yeah and I've fallen  
> Yes, I'm crawling on my knees  
> Yeah and I'm calling  
> Out in search of who we'll be
> 
> Tell me things you've never said out loud  
> ‘Cause I want to know I'm just a man


	33. Love Like Ghosts

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: MENTION OF SUICIDE ATTEMPT/SUICIDAL THOUGHTS

“I can drop you off in the front, if you want,” Mike said, pulling Stanley’s attention away from his phone. He’d been texting Beverly to let her know they’d just arrived, knowing she was probably boarding her and Ben’s flight and probably wouldn’t get the message until after they landed in Maine. 

“Uh, sure,” Stanley answered, glancing over his shoulder towards Patty, who sat eagerly in the backseat. She smiled at him and a warm rush filled Stanley’s chest as he smiled back. Once the car rolled to a stop, the pair hopped out onto the pavement. Stanley ducked his head back into the car before he shut the door. “We can wait for you in the lobby if you want.” 

“Oh, no,” Mike shook his head and waved a hand at him. “I’m gonna go pick something up really quick, shouldn’t take long. You go ahead.” 

Stanley frowned, staring at Mike quizzically before offering a quick nod and shutting the door. He and Patty watched him pull away, enjoying the feeling of stretching their legs after the back-to-back plane and car rides here. The trio were all still at Mike’s place in Florida when they got the call from Joey, and the extra time it took for them to pack all of their things delayed them quite a bit. Their flight was probably half the time of Richie and Bill’s, which only emphasized how quickly the duo must’ve been out the door after getting the call. 

Which was no surprise to Stanley. 

He remembered when Richie texted him a panic just a few weeks prior. Not wanting to worry Richie or Patty, the latter having been listening to the call nearby, Stanley made sure to keep a calm tone when speaking despite his growing inner turmoil. Richie’s comments scared him quite a bit, actually, so much that he called Bill almost immediately after to let him know to keep a close eye out. 

_I can feel myself slipping, Stan._

_All the thoughts are coming back...I don’t wanna go back._

_I...I don’t think I can move on without him._

_I’m scared._

Stanley was all too familiar with the notions, having experienced the same exact thing the day Mike called him to return to Derry. He felt it all rush back into his head the moment Mike spoke his name, the sensation nearly sending Stanley to the floor. The dark memories struck him first without heed or hesitation. It unleashed a terrifying chaos in his mind, making it difficult to listen to Mike’s voice on the other line. 

That one summer when they were twelve. 

The year after Georgie went missing.

The woman from the painting. 

The dancing clown. 

A fear unlike any other crawled under Stanley’s skin as everything came flooding back. The hand holding the phone to his ear trembled against the side of his face, a crippling terror ripping down his back and knotting his stomach so tightly he thought it would burst. Stanley remembered the consuming fright he’d felt when he encountered the woman for the first time in his father’s office. Even as a child, he was a person of _logic_ and _reasoning_. There was little that scared him, for he could always determine the explanation or cause behind something and put at end to the situation. He was always in control. 

Then, the clown appeared and tore that clarity right from his grasp. 

There was no reasoning behind It’s presence, no possible scientific explanation for It’s existence, no understanding of what It even was, no ability to analyze It and determine It’s weaknesses. 

Stanley had never felt so powerless in his life. 

Once he realized the others had seen the clown too, it gave Stanley a strange form of relief. In that moment, he knew he wasn’t alone and that he hadn’t lost his mind. But during the same conversation, the kids also discovered that It presented itself differently to each of them, manifesting in the form of their own absolute worst fears. How could they have ever defeated anything like that? Something that _knew_ what they feared most and _knew_ how to use it against them? 

Stanley didn’t enter Neibolt the first time they went, but he remembered standing outside with Mike close at his side and Beverly and Ben a little ways off. He cried for his friends, terrified beyond belief they wouldn’t ever come out of that house again. That was the day Eddie almost died, but managed to get away with only a broken arm. 

_I can’t go into that house, Mike…I c-can’t..._

Stanley didn’t want to enter Neibolt when they returned to its front step weeks later. He stood frozen in the doorway, visibly shaking as the others tried to coax him inside. They convinced him that if they all stuck together, and if they all fought the clown at once, they could beat it. That was the day they saved Beverly from It and all made it out alive, but it was also the day that struck such dark fears in his heart that would linger there forever.

_...Stan?_

_Stan, we all have to go. B-b-beverly was right. If we split up like last time, that clown will kill us one by one. But if we stick t-together, all of us...we’ll win. I promise._

Despite every instinct in his body telling him to turn around and leave, Stanley entered the house on Neibolt wielding nothing but a flashlight. He hated every minute, every second, every moment. And then he hated himself for feeling that way. Stanley wanted to save Beverly just as much as everyone else, but he was so _scared_ that he’d lose himself or one of the other Losers along the way. 

_We’ll win...I promise._

Then, Stanley learned that Bill had _lied_ to him, whether he meant to or not. He’d told him that if they all stuck together, they’d make it. But then Stanley found himself alone in the sewers, frantically scanning the pitch-black room with his flashlight. He cried so hard, calling out for help as loudly as he could, but no help came...not until after the woman from the painting had its fangs piercing the skin on his face. 

_Stanley, Stanley!_

_NO! NO! NO!_

_You left me! You made me go into Neibolt!_

_No, Stanley no!_

_YOU MADE ME GO INTO NEIBOLT!_

_Stan, I’m so sorry-_

_YOU’RE NOT MY FRIENDS!_

Fear. 

Inherent, unshakable fear. 

It gnawed at Stanley from the greatest depths within him, wreaking unseeable havoc on his body as it tore him apart. He trembled on his walk to the study after Mike’s call, quickly locking himself inside despite Patty’s protests of confusion. There wasn’t much time, not much time at all. The others were meeting back in Derry the following day, so whatever Stanley decided to do, he had to decide right then and there. 

But what was there to be done?

He couldn’t go back. 

Stanley knew that much as he let himself dwell on the traumatizing memories of his past. He couldn’t bring himself to face them again. The fear he felt as a child...it never truly went away. It lingered within him, stalking through the darkest shadows of his mind, watching him with keen eyes as it ever so patiently waited for the perfect time to pounce. 

And this was that time. 

It felt like floodgates opening in his head, sending a tidal wave of emotion coursing through his veins that was so strong he could barely breathe. Stanley’s body shook terribly at the sensation, only affirming his belief that he couldn’t return. The clown fed off of fear, and Stanley knew his presence would only give It even more strength. If he were to go back, he’d surely get the others killed. 

The others... 

The Losers. 

Stanley’s eyes shot open as new memories washed over his mind, temporarily sweeping away the ever-growing panic that swelled in his racing heart. He saw all of their faces, one by one, flashing across his mind like a glowing montage. 

Richie. 

Annoying asshole, best friend in the entire world...for Stanley, Richie was one in the same. Sure, Richie’s trashmouth and complete lack of filter were a little off-putting at times, but he was also one of the smartest and entertaining people Stanley had ever met. He never admitted that second part out loud, though. But as it turned out...other people thought the same thing. 

Stanley found himself smiling when he googled Richie’s name and was met with an official website, a Netflix special, a rather large social media following, and tour dates. He felt a surge of pride for Richie as he clicked on an image of him and was met with the same dork from his youth. Memories of the boy with the funny voices and magnified eyes appeared in Stanley’s thoughts and, to his sudden recollection, the same kid was right beside him in almost every image. 

Eddie. 

Hyperactive hypochondriac, small but by far the loudest of his friends. Stanley remembered how shocked he was the day they first met, when he heard Eddie’s motormouth running at the speed of light at the volume of someone five times his size. He’d grown used to it almost immediately, though. More often than not, Eddie said exactly what Stanley was thinking so he never had to. The other times, however...not so much. 

More memories appeared in Stanley’s mind, and he found himself instinctively rolling his eyes as the images of Richie and Eddie bickering came to light. No matter what Stanley or the others did, those two would just never _shut the fuck up_. It was actually quite excessive how much time they spent together, and how high of a percentage of that time was spent firing back and forth at each other. Their words were never spoken with malicious intent, though. There was a hidden fondness there whether they meant it to be or not. 

Stanley remembered the way Richie stole glances at Eddie when he thought the boy wasn’t looking, or how he’d get all flustered when Eddie leapt into the hammock with him on...many occasions. It was different with them compared to the other Losers, but Stanley could never put his finger on what the driving point was until he was a bit older. But even then, Stanley was never certain what exactly they were to each other. He had a gut feeling he knew what it was, though. 

And when Richie finally confessed his secrets to the others at the hospital a few decades later, Stanley felt no surprise. He only felt the bittersweet confirmation of what he started to suspect in their youth. 

Stanley spent a long stretch of time in his office that evening looking up the other Losers, not only their contact information but also their careers and whatever he could find about their lives. Some of them were certainly easier to find than others, like Richie, Beverly and Bill. Ben wasn’t that hard to track down, either, and Stanley eventually found both Mike and Eddie despite their limited presence on the internet. 

Beverly. 

Ruthlessly loyal protector, affectionate, and logical. Stanley often found himself gravitating towards her because of that last one, finally having found solace from the chaotic idiocy of the other Losers. She’d smile at him and patiently listen as he ranted, adding in her own snarky side comment on occasion. 

And after that summer with the clown, Stanley looked to Beverly for confidence. She was the bravest person he’d ever met, even though he wasn’t sure of her when they first met. He remembered when Beverly was the _only_ person to volunteer to go into the well house on Neibolt with Bill, and how she so desperately pleaded them to stick together after escaping. 

That same grit never left her as she aged, only growing into an even stronger fire that glowed almost as brightly as her hair. Stanley knew very little about what happened between her and her father, but he knew enough based off the look of her face whenever the topic would come up. It made him happy to see her grow more independent without him in the picture after another family member came to live with her in a new home across town. Stanely couldn’t help but wonder if she was still just as fierce and passionate as an adult, and a quick look at her social media gave him comfort in knowing that she was.

Bill. 

Hard-headed fighter, creative, and ambitious. Like Stanley, Bill was more of the reserved type. Before the Losers Club expanded to seven members, Bill and Stanley would often sit in a comfortable quiet as Richie and Eddie rambled on and on about something pointless. Even as a child, Bill often displayed his talent in the arts. He was a gifted artist and aspiring writer, and Stanley loved spending evenings with him just sitting together in one of their rooms, working away on their own materials. Stanley smiled when he searched online for Bill and was met with a long list of books, novellas, and even movie adaptations of some of his works. 

Things changed during that summer, though, when the clown tore its way into their lives forever. Georgie went missing and Bill was devastated. Devastated, but also determined and strong-willed. He never gave up on finding Georgie and often spent hours deducting where he could’ve been. And when It appeared to them, Bill stopped at nothing to find the clown and kill it for what it did to his little brother. 

Stanley resented Bill for a short time after, blaming Bill for pulling all of them into doing something they clearly didn’t want to do. But as his anger faded over the weeks that followed, and Stanley couldn’t help but respect Bills tenacity and unwavering drive. To have such willpower in the face of darkening times was something one did not so easily come across. 

Ben. 

Eloquent designer, bashful, and perceptive. Although Ben’s natural curiosity of Derry’s history certainly frightened him, Stanley grew to like the kid very quickly. Ben’s bedroom was a mess the first time he saw it, entire walls of it plastered with printed photocopies of books, newspapers, and old photographs all pertaining to Derry. Stanley developed a deep respect for Ben’s commitment to his research, but drew away upon realizing that everything he’d found all tied back to the missing children and the dancing clown. 

As they grew older and the summer with the clown had passed, however, Ben continued to show a great enthusiasm for learning. Stanley enjoyed it, and often spent many afternoons in the library with him as they read books and did homework. And when Stanley developed his passion for bird-watching, Ben was always his favorite person to take. Bill and Beverly would lose interest too quickly, while Eddie, Richie, and Mike were all too loud and scared away the birds. But Ben? He loved it, and would always eagerly point to new birds as he saw them before raising an eyebrow at Stanley, waiting for him to identify it. 

Mike. 

Kind-hearted caretaker, selfless, and by far the strongest of any Loser. Stanley had never met anyone so thoughtful in his life. He remembered the day Mike became a Loser, the day the other six found him being beaten by Bowers’ goons and the rock war that quickly ensued. Stanley had seen Mike around town and knew he was the homeschooled kid, but never did he guess that same person would grow to be one of his closest friends. 

Mike was affectionate, the kind of person who would never hurt someone else unless it was in defense of himself or his friends. Stanley always found it funny, considering Mike’s broad build was actually a bit intimidating, and that he was a valued player on their high school’s football team after transferring to public school. Because of that, he always had loads of extra water bottles and food in his backpack that bring to snack on before practice. He always shared. 

But then, the Losers graduated high school and went their different ways. Mike was the only one to stay behind, having chosen to help his family with the farm for a bit. Stanley remembered coming home during breaks to visit, with every passing school semester bringing fewer and fewer Losers home until only Mike remained. Everyone else forgot each other and Derry as the years passed, but Mike? He never left, so he never forgot. 

It was difficult for Stanley to wrap his head around something like that, how someone would remain in the town they were almost _killed_ in by choice. And for what? Not to protect himself, or the other Losers...but to protect the residents of Derry and every generation that followed. To stay true to the oath he’d promised Bill after they fought the clown down in the cistern together. 

Stanley’s hand _burned_ at the memory as he stared down at the prominent, jagged scar across his palm. How could he have forgotten something so pertinent from his childhood, something that he stared down at every single day of his life yet never questioned? How could he have forgotten the people that meant so much to him in his youth? Stanley _loved_ his friends, he loved them with a fierce admiration that had only resurfaced just minutes prior in his study. His devotion to them was strong, but...his fear of what returning to Derry would bring was even stronger. It slowly ate at him alive, tearing apart the fond memories he had of his friends from childhood. In that moment, Stanley realized he was faced with two formidable options. 

He could return to Derry and succumb to the swelling fears in his heart, leading his friends to certain destruction. 

Or, he could stay behind and let the others go to Derry and fight the clown. 

The latter was by far the more preferable choice, but...why did Stanley feel no safer choosing that option? It terrified him, the idea of the clown’s grip still latching around him all these years far beyond the borders of Derry. He never remembered anything about Derry or his friends, not until Mike called and brought it all pouring back. If the clown could do something like that from such a far distance, Stanley didn’t want to know what else the entity was capable of. 

Stanley didn’t want to bring to clown’s wrath here, to Patty. 

_Patty_.

 _Baby-love_. 

Patty was everything to Stanley and more. She was a light in the dark and the only one who ever brought him true and complete comfort in his times of trouble. Their years together had been the best of his life, every moment a gift he thought he didn’t deserve. He wanted nothing more than to stay here with her forever and live in the bliss of each other’s company. 

But Stanley loved his friends, too. 

He didn’t want Patty or any of them to die because he was too _afraid_ to confront the fears of his past. 

_Stan, we all have to go. B-b-beverly was right. If we split up like last time, that clown will kill us one by one. But if we stick t-together, all of us...we’ll win. I promise._

Cursing to himself as he sat in his study, Stanley slowly began to realize that there was another option he could choose. One that he knew wouldn’t take the lives of anyone else because of his fears...anyone besides himself. 

If Stanley went back to Derry, his fears would get himself and everyone else killed. 

If Stanley stayed behind, the clown would unleash its wrath on not only him but Patty as well...and It would still kill his friends because they wouldn’t be all together, _united_. 

But. 

But…

If Stanley were to take himself out of the equation...every remaining Loser would be together and able to fight. And Patty would be safe. 

That...

...That was...logical. 

Oh, who the fuck was he kidding? _None_ of this was logical. Mike was calling them all back to their childhood town they’d completely _forgotten_ to fight a dancing, supernatural _clown_ that Stanley still couldn’t wrap his head around after all this time. None of them ever truly knew what It _was_ , or how it came to be. It shouldn’t have been real, nothing like that was even possible. There was nothing on Earth that could have conjured such a being into existence, and that’s what truly scared Stanley the most. His fear of what he couldn’t understand. 

But once the seed was planted, and once it was nourished and grown by the ever-growing dread that plagued his thoughts, Stanley saw no other feasible option. 

So he wrote the letters, one for each Loser and one for Patty. The Loser’s letters all had the same message, a few phrases directed at specific people hidden between the lines. Patty’s letter took the longest, for he chose to explain it _all_. He didn’t know if it was the right thing to do, since she’d probably think he’d gone mad the first time reading it. But Stanley thought ahead, and listed out the contact information he’d found for all the other Losers. They’d help her understand. 

And then he took a bath, his last thoughts drifting to each of the Loser’s faces from the day they made their oath to Bill. A promise that Stanley was about to keep. 

_I swear, Bill._

He saw Patty’s face as he drifted into darkness. He’d thought it was just a hallucination, a figment of his mind as he fell into a heavy sleep from which he’d never wake. But now, after hearing what happened? Stanely wasn’t so sure if it was a dream, or if it’d really been her. 

Over three months had passed since that dreaded evening, Stanley’s entire life shifting on its axis since that time. He was in the bath but then woke up in the hospital, with Patty sobbing over his shoulder with relief. It’d taken her time to come around, to listen to anything he had to say after what he did to her. Stanley didn’t blame her. He waited patiently until she finally sat down quietly one day and told him to explain _everything_. So he did, and she listened. 

And then, before Stanley knew it, they were flying to Maine...the very place he said he’d never return to. The circumstances were far different, however, with the clown finally defeated and his friends all alive, but barely. It was terrifying, seeing all the Losers again and looking them in the face for the first time in so many years. He could see the anguish and trauma that pooled in their eyes when he met their gazes, each of them building the strife within his heart. Stanley feared they’d be furious with him for what he did, but that dread was quickly washed away when Mike read the letter he’d written for them aloud. There was no anger in their expressions, only sympathetic exhaustion and relief. Nothing else mattered then besides the death of the clown and the Losers’ survival. All that mattered was making sure Eddie made it through his fight alive. 

And he did. 

Mike was the one who got the call from Joey as they all sat together at the kitchen table eating lunch. Stanley knew she must’ve said when tears sprung in Mike’s eyes before he stood started to pace back and forth. Within a few hours, they finished their lunch, did the dishes, packed their things, and boarded the next flight to Maine. 

Eddie was awake. 

With a smile towards Patty, Stanley locked his arm around hers as they briskly walked down the lobby and through the sliding double doors on the far end. It’d been a while, but they knew exactly where to go. Down the hallway and to the left, then up the stairs, down another hallway, two more turns, then one more hallway. They were stopped halfway through their trip, however, when met with a man frantically walking in their direction. He was on the phone. 

“-you tell me what it is? Alright fine, k-keep your secrets. Oh, I found them, gotta go-” 

Stanley smiled as Bill approached, shoving his phone into his back pocket. 

“Hey!” Bill smiled back, not stopping on his path until he wrapped Stanley in a tight embrace, patting him on the back a few times. “Mikey just called to tell me y-you were here.”

“Yeah, he dropped us off...then mentioned he had to pick something up? He wouldn’t tell me what, though,” Stanley replied with a subtle, annoyed tone in his voice. He hated when he was out of the loop on something, especially when it was secretive like this. 

“Mhm, he told me the same,” Bill said as he pulled back and offered Stanley a shrug before turning to Patty. “Hey, Patty, g-good to see you!” 

Patty smiled and hugged Bill warmly. “Your plane must’ve made it in record time to beat us here.” 

“You can give R-richie all the credit for that...I swear he had our bags packed in five m-minutes,” Bill laughed as he stepped back, placing both hands on his hips. He let out a content sigh, staring between the two new arrivals. A softer smile appeared on his face when he asked, “You ready to see him?” 

With a nod from both Stanley and Patty, Bill turned on his heels and led them back to Eddie’s room. Heart twisting with excitement, Stanley gripped Patty’s hand tightly to help alleviate some of his nerves. This was the first time he’d see Eddie _awake_ as an adult, finally able to hear his voice and look him in the eyes. 

Turning the last corner towards Eddie’s room, Bill slowed down and nodded for them to go in first. He’d explained on the way how they already told Eddie about what happened, and how Stanley survived his own ordeals back home. It was a shock, apparently, but he’d calmed down since. After one final glance at Patty, Stanley stepped forward and pushed the slanted door open. He remained where he stood, just beyond the threshold, as the door slowly swung away and revealed the familiar scene of Eddie’s room. Only this time...Eddie was awake, and-

_Oh._

Well shit, would you look at that? 

Stanley couldn’t help but smirk at the sight before him as memories from his childhood flooded his mind once again. Everything he used to notice...all those stolen glances and lingering touches...and everything he’d try to subtly say in his letter...it’d meant something after all. Stanely knew how Richie felt, he damn near screamed it at him and everyone else when Eddie was still out cold, but he was never quite as certain about Eddie. 

But as Stanley took in the sight of Richie sitting on the edge of Eddie’s bed, Eddie sitting up and wrapped in a loose embrace as Richie leaned up to press a gentle kiss to Eddie’s forehead, then another deeper kiss on his lips...Stanley knew he’d been right about them. A surge of pride flooded through him as Patty walked up beside him, trying to stifle a giggle with her hand covering her mouth. 

“Well that didn’t take long,” Stanley teased loudly, remembering to himself that Richie and Bill had only gotten there less than an hour before himself and Patty. Eddie jumped at the voice, the man’s eyes immediately locking with Stanley’s, his face instantly paling and losing almost all of its color. 

“S-seriously, again?!” Bill asked, smirking as he slipped past Stanley from where he’d been standing in the hallway, “Is this j-just gonna happen every time I walk into the room now?” 

“Hey, man,” Richie fired back as he pointed an accusing finger at Bill, “We’ve got, like, almost thirty years to make up for here. Cut us some slack.” 

Bill laughed and started to argue back, only to be cut off but the sharp inhale of breath that came from Eddie’s bed. 

“...Stan?” Eddie breathed, his eyes somehow growing even wider as Stanley smiled softly and strode to the side of his bed opposite of Richie. Bill pulled over a chair, and Stanley shot him a thankful nod before sitting down. Eddie’s eyes dug into him so intensely, a rush of joy overcoming him at the sight. Those were _Eddie’s_ eyes. The exact same ones Stanley remembered from his childhood. 

“Hey, Eddie,” Stanley replied, chuckling to himself when the widest smile he’d ever seen appeared on Eddie’s face at the sound of his voice. He quickly stood from the chair when Eddie lifted his arms a bit and leaned forward. Cautious of Eddie’s wounds, which Stanley knew probably healed a decent amount during their time away, Stanley sat on the edge of the bed and let Eddie pull him into an embrace. His friend held him tight, with one arm on his back and the other on his hair, the comfort of finally seeing each other again eliciting a sigh from both of them. 

“Oh my god...Stan…” Eddie said again, although Stanley couldn’t quite tell if it was a laugh or cry when he felt him shake a bit against his chest. Stanley held him closer all the same. Eddie made to wrap his other arm around Stanley’s back, but flinched when a hiss fell from his mouth. Stanley shot back almost immediately, arms out and ready to help when he spotted the flash of pain of Eddie’s face. 

Richie was on him almost instantly, eyes wide as they searched for the cause of his pain. “Sorry,” Eddie exhaled slowly, bringing one hand up to gently clutch the bandage covering his abdomen. Richie continued to hover with concern, and wouldn’t stop until Eddie assured him he was fine. “I just stretched my arms too far, Rich, I’m fine…” 

Stanley shifted back into his chair beside the bed, shooting a quick glance up at Patty, who’d quietly walked up behind him. She placed a gentle hand on his shoulder from where she stood behind the chair, and Stanley clasped his hand over hers. Eddie turned his attention back to them and quickly caught sight of Patty, another hesitant smile growing on his face. “Patty,” He breathed, his eyes flitting up to meet hers. “Hi, we haven’t met. Well, not when I was awake, at least...I’m Eddie.” 

“Hi,” Patty blinked in surprise, but smiled back with a bittersweet expression. “I’m sorry we couldn’t have met under better circumstances, Eddie, but it’s great to finally talk to you now.” 

“Yeah,” Eddie chuckled, glancing between the couple, “It’s nice to actually have people hear me again.” 

Stanley frowned at that, his stare quickly darting between the other Loser’s and Patty’s expressions to find the same confused look. Richie’s was more subtle, but there was still a subtle gleam of perplexion hidden deep within his eyes. “What do you mean?” Stanley asked, tilting his head forward a bit. 

“I heard it,” Eddie replied, a look of realization crossing his face that the others didn’t know what he was talking about, “I probably heard almost everything you said in here. I thought it was just in my head at first, but...Richie said something to me when I woke up that I’d only ever heard while I was out. That’s when I realized everything I dreamt was actually you guys talking right next to me the whole time.” 

Stanley upheld his stoic demeanor. “Sounds like one hell of a dream.” 

“Yeah,” Eddie nodded, his expression dropping a bit as he answered. “It felt so real, but everything about it was so different, that...when I woke up, I was convinced none of it actually happened. You wouldn’t believe it if I told you...”

“Oh yeah?” Stanley asked, his lips curving upwards in the slightest fraction, “Try me.” 

“After everything I’ve heard about Derry, I’d believe _anything_ that you say,” Patty added encouragingly from behind her husband. 

A short silence followed as Eddie’s gaze shifted from one person to the next, each of them wearing the same curious expression that silently asked Eddie to elaborate. The man took a deep breath and continued. Stanley noticed Richie shift nervously on the other end of the bed. This must be the first time Eddie had spoken on this. 

“Someone mentioned dirty water early on, which I now realize was probably one of you talking about how I got an infection from that fucking grey-water in the sewers,” Eddie noted, visibly shivering with disgsut. Richie opened his mouth to answer, but Eddie cut him off. “ _Don’t_ answer that, I don’t want to know. Fucking disgusting.” 

Stanley smirked. _There_ was the Eddie he knew. 

“But for me?” Eddie continued, his voice coming back down to a calmer tone, “We were all in the quarry, washing ourselves off after escaping from Neibolt. You were talking, and when I tried to talk back...none of you could hear me, and that’s when I realized none of you could _see_ me, either. I thought I was dead.” 

“Like a ghost?” Richie asked, eyebrows raised in surprise, “I-” 

“Yes Richie, like a ghost, now shut up,” Eddie said, but no anger was in his voice. There was something else there, but Stanley couldn’t pinpoint what it was. It wasn’t quite sadness...nor pain, acceptance, or exhaustion. A mix of all four, maybe. “After that, we all went back to the Townhouse and I found Stan there...only he was dead too, so he could see and hear me.” 

That made a lot of sense, actually. 

When Eddie fell into his coma, he believed Stanley was dead. It was only logical for his brain to take the voices it’d heard in his hospital room and manifest them in a way that made sense to Eddie which, in this case, meant Stanley was dead and a ghost, too. 

“Some of it’s starting to fade now,” Eddie continued, staring at nothing in particular other than the empty space directly in front of him, “But I remember bits and pieces. I heard Richie say he found my fanny pack in my luggage, and how he remembered that I always kept my bifocals hidden in my _second_ pack, never the first.” 

Eddie shot an affectionate gaze towards Richie at the sentiment, and Richie stared back with wide eyes as his cheeks tinged with the lightest shade of pink. 

“I remember Bill kept trying to write a better ending for his book and kept getting mad when he couldn’t get it right,” Eddie continued, eliciting a laugh from the group. “I remember when Mike got food for everyone and cooked, and I remember...Stan took me outside to watch the birds every day to help take my mind off of things. I don’t get why I saw that one...” 

“Huh,” Bill said under his breath, sounding astonished. “Bev opened that window behind your bed every day when we were here, and there were these two birds that always landed on the ledge and would chirp f-for hours…” 

“Oh, yeah, that explains it,” Eddie shrugged, craning his neck to see the window behind him, but stopping when he flinched again and brought a hand to his torso. After another pause to catch his breath, Eddie continued, his tone a bit darker this time. “I remembered Bev saying she was getting a divorce, and that she’d be living with Ben. And then…” 

Nobody spoke as Eddie paused to collect his thoughts. 

“...I heard Richie yelling,” Eddie admitted, no longer looking in Richie’s direction, “I remember what he said about me, and...everything else. And then he told me about the Kissing Bridge, and we showed up there. It wasn’t until then that I realized that...I...that I...was-” 

Stanley could see the complex waves of emotions that flooded Eddie’s eyes as he struggled to form them all into words. He caught Eddie’s anxious gaze and offered him a wordless nod of acknowledgement, trying to tell him that he understood what he was trying to say. Eddie hesitated, but nodded back, and moved on. 

“And then, it was time for everyone to leave,” Eddie said as his gaze fell towards his fumbling hands in his lap, “Everyone said goodbye and got in their cars to drive away...I tried to get into Richie and Bill’s car. I thought it would work, but when they crossed the town’s limits I got...sucked out? I don’t know. All I _did_ know was that I was trapped there for I couldn’t even tell you how long. And then, after so many days of being trapped there, I woke up. I didn’t realize any of it was even a dream until I woke up in a hospital with a tube down my throat, and I didn’t realize what everyone said was real until I talked to Richie...”

Eddie’s eyes quickly shot towards Stanley who still had his hand wrapped around Patty’s, which rested on his shoulder. Stanley followed his gaze, his heart jumping when he realized Eddie was staring at the spot where his cuffed button-up had come un-done at his wrist to reveal one of his recently-healed scars. Eddie’s expression fell at the sight before he gazed back up to meet Stanley’s stare. 

“I heard Mike read your letter,” Eddie muttered quietly, “I heard every word of it, and I heard-”

Eddie’s voice cut off as his stare darted between Stanley’s and Bill’s. Stanley was quick to realize that he was about to mention the conversation he and Bill had while Eddie was out and Richie was asleep on the other side of the room. 

“-I heard everything else you said,” Eddie continued, his voice genuine and warm. “And I...I know why you did it, and I’m not angry. I don’t know if you were worried about that, but, Dream Stan was. But it’s okay now, cause we’re all alive and we’re gonna be okay. We won, Stan.” 

Stanley blinked, not noticing the tears that had built up in the corners of his eyes until it was too late. A few of them slipped free and streaked down his face as he locked his gaze with Eddie’s once more. Eddie stared back with a new intensity, as if trying to throw a million sentiments towards him at once. His eyes spoke far more than any words could. Stanley smiled as he nodded, closing his eyes as he reached up to wipe away his tears with the back of his hand. 

The next half-hour passed quickly, the others having taken upon themselves the shared job of answering all of Eddie’s questions about what was real and what wasn’t. While the dialogue in his dreams had been fairly accurate, there were certainly things he missed. And after hearing that Stanley was in fact _alive_ after believing he was dead in his dream, Eddie grew paranoid over everything else he heard and whether it was real or just a part of the dream. About ten minutes in, Bill and Richie started to make connections about what Eddie knew and what he didn’t. 

Eddie knew everything he’d heard in his dream because they’d been spoken in his hospital room, while anything that happened outside his door was too far out of range to be heard...including Patty’s phone call about Stanley. It seemed, however, that Eddie even missed a few conversations that happened _in_ his room for one reason or another. Whether it was the time of day, his medications, or even just his brain unable to understand the conversation in the context of Eddie’s dream...nobody knew. All Stanley knew for certain was that the anguished guilt that plagued his mind for the choice he made would haunt him forever...but with Patty and the Losers all alive and by his side again, Stanley was finally stronger than it. 

He wasn’t afraid, not anymore.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Love Like Ghosts - Lord Huron
> 
> Yes, I know that love is like ghosts  
> Oh, few have seen it, but everybody talks  
> Spirits follow everywhere I go  
> Oh, they sing all day and they haunt me in the night
> 
> Oh, they sing all day and they haunt me in the night...
> 
> Yes, I know that love is like ghosts  
> Oh, and what ain't living can never really die  
> You don't want me, baby, please don't lie  
> Oh, but if you're leaving, I gotta know why  
> I said if you're leaving, I gotta know why  
> Oh, I sing all day and I love you through the night
> 
> Yes I know that love is like ghosts  
> Oh, and the moonlight, baby, shows you what's real  
> There ain't language for the things I feel  
> And if I can't have you, then no one ever will  
> Oh, if I can't have you, then no one ever will
> 
> I don't feel it till it hurts sometimes  
> Oh, go on baby, hurt me tonight  
> I want ours to be an endless song  
> Baby, in my eyes, you do no wrong  
> I don't feel it till it hurts sometimes  
> So go on, baby, hurt me tonight  
> All the spirits that I know I saw  
> Do you see no ghost in me at all?
> 
> Oh, I sing all day and I love you through the night  
> Oh, I sing all day and I love you through the night  
> Oh, I sing all day and I love you through the night  
> Oh, I sing all day and I love you through the night


	34. Mars

“I can drop you off in the front, if you want,” Mike offered as he made their final turn into the hospital’s main parking lot. Stanley glanced up from his phone beside him, pondering the thought.

“Uh, sure,” Stanley answered, glancing over his shoulder towards Patty, who sat eagerly in the backseat. Once the car rolled to a stop, the pair hopped out onto the pavement. Stanley ducked his head back into the car before he shut the door. “We can wait for you in the lobby if you want.” 

“Oh, no,” Mike shook his head and waved a hand at him. “I’m gonna go pick something up really quick, shouldn’t take long. You go ahead.” 

Once the doors were shut, Mike pulled away and second address he’d entered into his GPS before arriving. He followed the route without issue, happy that the destination was only a short ten minute drive away. His back was getting pretty sore from speed-packing his things down in Florida before sitting all day while they traveled. After feeling certain about his route, Mike turned off the GPS and dialed in a phone number. The phone rang twice before someone picked up on the other line. 

_”Mikey?”_

“Hey, Bill,” Mike said with a smile, paying extra attention to the road signs so he didn’t miss his next turn. 

_”Hey! You here y-yet?”_ Bill’s voice asked through the phone in an excited tone. 

Mike chuckled. “No, not yet. I just dropped Stan and Patty off at the front entrance, I just need to make a quick stop to pick something up first. It should only take a few minutes so I’ll be there soon.” 

_”Pick up what?”_ Bill asked curiously. 

“You’ll see,” Mike replied in a joking tone, “It’s nothing big. Just a small thing.”

 _“Why won’t you tell me what it is?”_ Bill all but whined. 

Mike laughed again. “You’ll _see_ , Bill.” 

_”Alright fine, k-keep your secrets. Oh, I found them, gotta go-”_

“Alright, see you soon,” Mike managed to get out before Bill quickly hung up. Moments later, he spotted his destination and turned into the parking lot. Mike’s heart fluttered when his car rolled to a stop and he stepped out. 

Eddie was awake. 

He and Stanley were both alive after coming so close to death. 

The Losers Club survived not one, but two encounters the clown...and together, they finally put an end to its tyranny. That sentiment alone gave Mike such an incredible sense of fulfillment that he’d never experienced before. In some ways, it felt like his life was leading up to this point, and now that he was here with all his friends beside him, he was finally free from all the horrors of his childhood. 

Fear. 

The emotion manifested itself in many ways throughout Mike’s life, long before the clown ever showed its face. He’d grown up an outcast, a minority in a town that seemed to always close him off. It wasn’t so bad when he was younger, when he still retained his innocence and had no grasp on the true horrors that sat just outside his front door. Mike was so young, _far_ too young the day his parents were lost to jaws of the flames that consumed his home in one fell swoop. 

He had nightmares for years. 

And when the clown came back to Derry, It brought those horrible memories to life right before Mike’s eyes, making it near impossible for him to tell the difference between what was real and what wasn’t. Mike never minded being an outcast, a loner, a freak. He’d put up with the glares and bullies his entire life, and that never changed. But then It arrived and Mike never felt so scared to be alone. 

His grandfather was right. The world was a terrible, horrifying, cruel place and if that’s what it was? Mike wanted no part of it. But then that fated day came that would change the course of the rest of Mike’s life forever.

The rock war. 

Mike was terrified, his body shaking as he tried so hard to fight back. But it hurt everywhere. Jolts of pain shot down his body every time Bowers pushed him harder into the rocks beneath him. Mike opened his mouth and tried to scream, but nothing came out when he looked beyond the others and spotted the clown hiding in the weeds, _watching_ him and _relishing_ in his suffering. 

Dread pooled within Mike as he watched Bowers raise a large rock above head, preparing to bring it down right onto Mike’s face. He pushed against Bowers as forcefully as he could but he wouldn’t budge. The rock was just about to come flying back down when another flying rock struck Bowers right in the forehead. And when Mike turned to catch a glimpse of his saviour, he found not one...but six. 

The Losers. 

Mike fled to them, bounding through the water and not caring that it soaked his socks, shoes, and pants. And once he’d crossed sides, the Losers opened fire and relentlessly pelted rocks at Bowers and his goons without remorse until they were forced to retreat. 

Little did Mike know, he’d just found his family. 

_Thanks guys, but you shouldn’t have done that. He’s gonna be after you now._

_Oh, no, Bowers? He’s always after us._

_I guess that’s one th-th-th-thing we all have in common._

_Yeah, homeschool! Welcome to the Losers Club!_

It was on that day Mike learned that everything his grandfather told him wasn’t completely true. Yes, the world was a dangerous place filled with evil things and terrible people...but there was also good in it, too. 

There would always be fear. Mike knew that. 

It wasn’t something that would just magically go away on its own, even after defeating the killer clown in the sewers of the well house. Fear was instilled in society and within every living creature on Earth. It’s what allowed them to live and fight for survival. Before meeting the Losers, fear was only a terrible thing that tore you apart and shaped you into a coward. But now? Mike saw fear as what a person felt when they had something dear to them, something that was worth protecting. 

In the Losers, Mike found something even more powerful than fear. 

He found love. 

And that’s why he stayed in Derry after all those years...slowly researching what he could about the clown and gathering a bountiful amount of information that would help him when It finally returned. Mike loved the Losers like they were his family, and watching them move away from Derry was one of the hardest things he’d ever had to do. At least, until he discovered that everyone who left Derry forgot about their history, their childhoods, their friendships...

It was excruciating some days, watching the other Losers from afar all those years, reminiscing on their precious days from childhood while knowing none of them could remember the same. Mike thought about leaving, sometimes. He considered packing it all up and moving to Florida like he’d originally planned. 

But how could he? 

His best friends in the whole world were out there. Sure, they all seemed to be living successful and happy lives, but...they didn’t know any of the others even existed. They’d all forgotten such a huge aspect of their lives, memories that defined them as individual people. It was like an entire fraction of themselves had been stripped away and left to burn without them even realizing it. Mike loved his friends, and silently watching and supporting them from afar, without reciprocation, pained him to no ends. 

If Mike left Derry, he’d too forget...and that’s what terrified him the most. He couldn’t imagine a life without the Losers in it, and didn’t want any part of a world in which he’d let that part of himself slip away like sand between his fingers. And leaving before it was time wouldn’t just impact Mike and the Losers, it would impact _everyone_. More people would die, and those who survived would grow older and move away. Just like the other Losers, they’d all forget about their lives in Derry and everything from their childhoods. 

It didn’t matter if Mike didn’t know them, or if he didn’t owe them anything. 

All he knew was that people would die and he couldn't have that.

So Mike stayed in Derry. He waited many years, pouring every ounce of energy into researching what he could and preparing for the day of the other Loser’s return. Mike felt so conflicted the day he called them all. He’d waited over twenty years to hear their voices again, to speak to them and have them _remember_ him. Yet, at the same time, Mike knew the trauma he’d be bringing back to light. Memories the others probably had buried so deep by then they had no recollection of them at all. 

But to have the Losers reunited and together again in order to put a stop to It’s killing spree? To Mike, experiencing that fear again was worth it. 

They’d all made an oath, after all. 

With a content sigh, Mike closed his car door and walked into the electronics store standing tall. He was in and out in less than twenty minutes, having called ahead to place his order and give all the information necessary while he, Stanley, and Patty all waited to board their plane at the airport. 

Eddie lost his phone in the caverns beneath the well house, so it was the least Mike could do to buy him a new one. Another twenty minutes had passed by the time Mike drove back to the hospital, parked, and made his way up to Eddie’s room. He shook with a nervous excitement as he carried the small box containing Eddie’s gift in his hands, navigating the hallways of the hospital like it was second nature. 

They won.

They all survived.

And all those years spent staying in Derry weren’t in vain, they meant something. 

With a deep breath, Mike took his last remaining steps towards the half-open door. He nudged it with the bag of his hand and slowly pushed it open. A wide smile spread across his face when he was met with all heads turning to him. Bill, Richie, Stanley, Patty, and...Eddie. 

Eddie was awake, and he certainly looked different. Mike wasn’t sure what shocked him more, the longer and unkempt hair, or the thin beard that now covered the lower half of his face. But underneath those looks was the face of the same kid who helped him off the ground that day by the barrens and helped guide him safely away from Bowers. It was the same germaphobic kid who didn’t hesitate to jump into stream water and mud to defend Mike. That was Eddie’s face, and he was _awake_. 

“Mike,” Eddie smiled, sitting up in his bed. The sight sent a warm rush through Mike’s chest, a happiness so strong that his eyes began to water. Mike remembered the pain everyone suffered watching Eddie go through such an ordeal, especially Richie. But now, Eddie was awake, and the worst was truly behind them this time. 

Mike strode inside, quickly making his way to the bed. He threw a smile towards Patty and Stanley, who both sat on the other side with warm expressions. Bill was first to reach Mike, laughing as he pulled him into a tight hug. “Good to see you, Mikey.” 

“You too, man.” 

“Hi Mike,” Richie smiled as he stood up from where he’d been sitting on the edge of Eddie’s bed and embraced Mike just as Bill had, the expression on his face a completely switch from what it was the last time Mike saw him. Richie appeared genuinely _happy_ , and more relaxed than he’d seen the man since they were kids. Maybe even more so now, he wasn’t sure. 

And finally, Mike turned back towards Eddie. 

Richie had pulled back the chair beside the bed, refraining from sitting back on the bed itself and instead standing adjacent to it. Mike came up next to him, his smile growing as he took in the sight of Eddie before him. “Hey, Eddie,” Mike said softly, beaming down at his friend, “How are you feeling?”

“Good,” Eddie nodded eagerly, overcome with joy at the arrival of another Loser, “Really good.” 

The words brought more comfort to Mike than anything else he’d heard from the others. Hearing about Eddie was one thing, but being here in person and _seeing_ him awake and _hearing_ him speak was a completely different experience...and it was phenomenal. “Oh, here,” Mike said, suddenly remembering the box he still held in his hands. He extended an arm towards Eddie, who eyed him curiously. “It’s for you.” 

“What is it?” Eddie asked with a thoughtful look, taking the box and turning it in his hands a few times. 

Mike huffed a laugh. “Just open it.” 

Mouth curving into a small smile, Eddie carefully lifted the lid off the plain white box and lifted the thin cardboard cover that concealed its contents. Eddie’s eyes widened as he laid eyes on the gift, “Oh wow.” 

“Well,” Mike grinned, “I figured since you lost your old phone at Neibolt you’d be needing a new one soon.” 

“This is _really_ nice, dude,” Eddie remarked, eyebrows raised in surprise as he picked up the phone and studied it closely. “You gotta let me pay you back, though.” 

“It’s a _gift_ , Eddie,” Mike replied as he shook his head instantly, “You don’t pay for your own gifts.” And not to mention, the enormous hospital bill that Eddie probably built up with his extended stay was more than enough for him to deal with...but Mike wasn’t gonna bring that up now. 

Eddie sighed, his gaze falling towards the phone in his hands before looking back up at Mike. An appreciative smile appeared on his face as he leaned forward and grabbed Mike’s wrist. Mike let the man pulled him down to a level he could hug him, and he found himself smiling against his friend’s shoulder. “Thanks, Mike,” Eddie said before they parted. 

“My pleasure,” Mike winked as he held out his hands for all of the empty box pieces and wrappings Eddie no longer needed. He helped Eddie get the charger plugged into the wall in an outlet close enough that could reach his bed. A few minutes passed as Eddie eagerly chose the basic settings on his phone after turning it on for the first time, while everyone else pleasantly watched him in silence as if he were a child playing with a new toy. 

Eddie passed off the phone to Richie not long after, asking him to enter everyone’s contact information into his phone. “Hey Mike?” He said, his tone suddenly much heavier than it was before. 

“Yeah?” Mike asked from the chair he now sat in near the end of Eddie’s bed. 

“I just…” Eddie started. He paused to better collect his thoughts before starting again. “I know how hard it must’ve been to stay in Derry all those years, and being the only one of us that didn’t forget what happened...or each other.” 

Mike stared at his friend with a sudden but great intensity, transfixed by Eddie’s words. 

“I wanted to thank you, Mike,” Eddie continued as a soft but bittersweet half-smile grew on his face. “Thanks for bringing us back together and helping us get rid of that asshole for good.” 

A rush of admiration pulsed through Mike’s heart and spread throughout his entire body. It felt like adrenaline, but so much lighter and far more intense. He swore his heartbeat doubled in his chest as Eddie stared at him with the most genuine and loving expression. 

_This_ was the reason he stayed in Derry all that time. 

The pure love and adoration this family shared. 

Nodding, Mike let his eyes fall shut as a wave of gratification rolled down his body. He smiled to himself, knowing that all the time he spent doubting if he’d made the right choice was no longer pertinent. Those anxieties and fears slowly turned to dust in his mind, drifting away into oblivion and never to be seen again. 

It was bliss. 

“I couldn’t have done it without all of you,” Mike answered, blinking rapidly in attempt to wave off the tears building in his eyes. 

Eddie smiled back just before Richie handed him back his phone. He tapped on the screen a few times, scrolling through his contacts to make sure Richie hadn’t missed any. Only seconds passed before he let out a groan and exaggeratedly rolled his eyes. “I fucking hate you, Rich,” Eddie grumbled as he tapped a contact on his screen and went to edit the name Richie saved them as. 

“Oh, come on,” Richie burst into laughter, the sound pulling everyone else into his banter, “They’re _funny_!” 

“Rich if you think _these_ are funny, it’s probably a _good_ thing you don’t write your own material,” Eddie muttered as he scrolled to the next contact to edit, which only sent Richie into another fit of cackles. 

As Mike glanced up at the others, he realized that it was already getting dark outside. The day was so packed full of excitement, stress, and anticipation, it all went by in a flash. He looked at Stanley first, then Bill, “Have you guys eaten anything yet? It’s getting late.” 

Bill frowned, thinking back to his day. “No, not since this morning.” 

“Hey, if you get food you should eat it downstairs,” Richie said from where he’d placed himself back into the chair adjacent to Eddie’s bed, “Eddie can’t eat anything yet, it’s not fair.” 

“Richie, it’s fine-” 

“No, he’s right,” Patty smiled with a subtle look towards Richie, “We can head downstairs to eat.” 

The others stood and made their way towards the door, Stanley pausing in the threshold when he noticed Richie wasn’t behind him. “You coming, Rich?” 

“No, you guys go ahead,” Richie replied, not even turning to look at the others as they left. Mike caught one last glimpse of the pair before rounding the corner. Richie was quite literally _glued_ to Eddie’s side. It looked as though Richie feared that if he walked away, even for the shortest second, Eddie would disappear. Mike didn’t blame him. He’d been through so much, more than Mike would ever understand. 

The group of four made their way down to the nearest cafeteria, each of them remembering exactly how to navigate it. If they weren’t in Eddie’s room before, they’d spent almost the rest of their time here or in the front lobby. Within fifteen minutes, everyone had their own food and were situated at a large, round table in the corner of the room. It wasn’t busy at all, since most of the places were about to close for the night. 

Bill spoke first, telling them everything that happened with Eddie before they arrived. How he opened up with Myra, and how she apparently showed up just a few short hours after receiving her call about Eddie. Bill said he didn’t know much of the details, so all he knew was that Eddie asked her for a divorce and she was escorted out when she resisted a bit. 

Mike glanced over at Stanley after hearing the news and found the man sitting with a stoic expression, absolutely no surprise at all. Which, Mike guessed, wasn’t that atypical for Stanley. Patty’s wasn’t that much different, though her face did hold a flash of new understanding. “Oh,” She said, her eyes widening as she glanced over at Stanley and nodded her head, “So that’s why…” 

Mike frowned. He was clearly out of the loop here. “Wait, what?” 

“Oh, right,” Stanley said, sitting up in his chair a bit, “I forgot you didn’t get here until later.” 

“What am I not getting here?” Mike asked, a nervous expression appearing on his face. 

“Nothing bad,” Patty quickly added from beside Stanley, extending a splayed hand and lowering it to quickly calm Mike of any building worry. A new look gleamed in her eyes when she spoke again, smiling now. “You just missed the _show_.”

Mike stared blankly.

Stanley laughed at Mike’s lost face, wrapping an arm around Patty’s shoulders. “She’s referring to when we first got here and walked in on a Richie and Eddie make-out session.” 

A Richie and Eddie _what_? 

“That h-happened to me _twice_ already!” Bill added from beside Mike with both a smirk and a roll of his eyes. 

Mike raised his eyebrows in surprise. “Seriously?” 

All three of the others nodded. 

“Wow,” Mike said, smiling to himself as he thought back to everything he’d learned about Richie the first week they were here. As much as he hated to admit it, Mike never suspected anything regarding his secrets until he confessed them all himself in Eddie’s room upstairs. 

It’d come as a shock at first, but what struck Mike most forcefully was the realization that Richie didn’t tell them sooner because he was _afraid_...because of the fear the clown and the rest of Derry all instilled in him at such a young age. But after Richie opened up, Mike could see a visible difference in the way Richie held himself around the other Losers. He was less tense, smiled more, and didn’t flinch away when someone else touched him. He even went out of his way to hold the other’s hands, embrace them, or rest his head on their shoulders. 

Mike had felt proud of Richie then, but not nearly as much as he did now. 

He must’ve told Eddie everything the moment he arrived. Mike couldn’t have imagined what it was like to walk in Richie’s shoes his entire life and then be able to conjure the courage to confess to Eddie what he did to the rest of the Losers. And the fact that Eddie felt the same way about Richie? Mike guessed it wasn’t that surprising when he thought back to when they were kids. 

Richie and Eddie had always been inseparable and much closer to each other than they were to most of the other Losers. Mike had noticed that connection between them almost immediately, he just didn’t know what it was until now...and, as it seemed, neither did they. Relief flooded through Mike’s core at the thought as Eddie’s thank you played again in his mind. Mike hadn’t realized it before, but not only was Eddie thanking him for staying in Derry and for bringing them together to fight the clown...but he was also thanking Mike for bringing him and Richie back together. 

The things they’d faced in Derry were those of true nightmares. Terrible, horrific things that Mike never wished to see again. And while their efforts did not come without consequences, Mike felt a strange comfort in knowing that _something_ so genuinely good and pure came out of this mess. Bringing Richie and Eddie back to Derry allowed them to face their fears and confront their pasts, allowing them to find happiness with each other. 

And wow, did they deserve it. 

“That’s...,” Mike laughed as another wave of relief washed over him. He found himself at a loss for words. “I’m speechless,” He said as the others laughed at his fumbles, “That’s so great!” 

Once the elation had died down a bit, the remainder of their meals was spent talking about their long days of travel. They all laughed at their collective sore bodies, joking that must mean they really were getting old. Another thirty minutes passed before they eventually finished snacking on what remained of their dishes. 

Just as they finished up, Stanley received a text on his phone and smiled when he was the sender’s name. “Bev and Ben just got here,” He said, looking up excitedly at all the others, “They’re almost at the lobby.” 

“Well, we’re already almost there,” Patty said as she tossed her used napkins in the trash, “Might as well meet them.” 

The group of four made it to the front lobby in record time. They subconsciously gravitated towards the seats they most often sat in during Eddie’s procedures and exams, preferring the sense of familiarity. Less than a minute passed when they heard a loud call from across the large room, the sound echoing off the long walls and glass windows. Mike turned and grinned when he spotted Beverly and Ben approaching them hand-in-hand. He felt such great jubilance at the sight, his heart racing in his chest when the pair reached them. They all ended up in one big group hug, laughing and playfully shoving each other just like they were all kids again. 

Only this time, there was no clown to feed off their fear. There was only a family founded on love and loyalty. Mike smiled to himself as he felt another surge of tears welling up in the corners of his eyes. They did it, all of them, together. They all survived, and they won. And now, they had the rest of their lives to look forward to. 

The worst was truly behind them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mars - Sleeping at Last 
> 
> We laid our names to rest  
> Along the dotted line  
> We left our date of birth  
> And our history behind
> 
> We were full of life  
> We could barely hold it in  
> We were amateurs at war  
> Strangers to suffering
> 
> We made our families proud  
> But scared at the same time  
> We promised we’d be safe  
> Another lie from the front lines
> 
> Our backs against the wall  
> We’re surrounded and afraid  
> Our lives now in the hands  
> Of the soldiers taking aim
> 
> Our questions ricochet  
> Like broken satellites:  
> How our bodies, born to heal  
> Become so prone to die?
> 
> Though time is ruthless  
> It showed us kindness in the end  
> By slowing down enough  
> A second chance to make amends  
> As life replayed, we heard a voice proclaim:
> 
> “Lay your weapons down!  
> They’re calling off the war  
> On account of losing track  
> Of what we’re fighting for”
> 
> So we found our way back home  
> Let our cuts and bruises heal  
> While a brand-new war began  
> One that no one else could feel
> 
> Our nights have grown so long  
> Now we beg for sound advice  
> “Let the brokenness be felt  
> ’Til you reach the other side  
> There is goodness in the heart  
> Of every broken man  
> Who comes right up to the edge  
> Of losing everything he has”
> 
> We were young enough to sign  
> Along the dotted line
> 
> Now we’re young enough to try  
> To build a better life  
> To build a better life


	35. Saturn

“Have you guys eaten anything yet?” Mike asked from the end of Eddie’s bed as he glanced around at the others. “It’s getting late.” 

Bill frowned as Richie stepped forward and pulled the nearest chair right up to Eddie’s bed before sitting down. “No, not since this morning.” 

“Hey, if you get food you should eat it downstairs,” Richie said, meeting Eddie’s eyes for a moment before shooting a quick look towards the others. He remembered what Eddie had told him earlier that day when Richie asked if he was hungry. “Eddie can’t eat anything yet, it’s not fair.” 

“Richie, it’s fine-” Eddie started before Patty cut him off. 

“No, he’s right,” Patty smiled. Her gaze flitted towards Richie, throwing him a knowing look. Richie half-smiled in return. “We can head downstairs to eat.” 

The others stood and made their way towards the door, Stanley pausing in the threshold when he noticed Richie hadn’t moved from his chair. “You coming, Rich?” 

“No, you guys go ahead,” Richie replied, not even turning to look at the others as they left. He waited until the others were completely out of the room before he glanced up to meet Eddie’s gaze once again. He blinked when he found Eddie frowning back at him. “What?” 

“Aren’t you hungry, Rich?” Eddie asked. 

“No, not really,” Richie sighed, reaching up to scratch his head, “Just kinda tired. Joey called at five this morning, and then we lost three hours flying in…” 

Eddie paused for a moment, thinking. “Come up here with me.” 

Richie raised his eyebrows skeptically. “No, dude,” He yawned, taking a quick look at the small bed and _knowing_ he wouldn’t fit, “I’m huge, there’s no more room.” 

A beat of silence. 

Eddie snorted loudly, Richie frowning at his reaction. “Wow, you must be _really_ tired to not make a ‘your mom’ joke out of _that_.” 

Mouth falling open, Richie stared at Eddie in amused shock before bursting into a fit of laughter. My god, did he fucking _love_ this man with every fiber of his being. An elated rush coursed through him when he remembered that Eddie, in fact, loved him too. Of course Richie didn’t forget that, he wouldn’t _ever_ forget the most important thing that’s ever happened to him...it just still didn’t feel real. 

_Oh, Eddie._

Eddie Kaspbrak was in love with him, too. 

_Eddie, my love._

Fuck, just _thinking_ it nearly sent Richie over the edge. 

“Rich?” Eddie said, waving a hand in front of his face, “Still with me?” 

“Yeah, sorry,” Richie smiled, blinking a few times as he shook his head to ward off his lovestruck daze. “What’d you say?” 

“I said I don’t care if there’s no room,” Eddie repeated, putting more emphasis on his words, “Come up here with me.” 

Richie sighed, shoulders slumping in defeat when Eddie stared at him with those same goddamn doe-eyes he did when they were kids. He knew exactly how to get his way with Richie. Standing from his chair, Richie paused to watch Eddie carefully scoot over in his bed to make more room. Waiting until Eddie looked back up at him expectantly, Richie leaned in and sat down on the bed. He let his back fall against the pillows first before lifted one leg and stretching it out on the bed. There wasn’t really room for his other leg, so his tugged the chair over with his foot and rested his ankle on one of its arms. 

He and Eddie were shoulder-to-shoulder now, and Richie couldn’t deny the comfort that Eddie’s warmth brought him. Richie turned and stared at Eddie, his gaze sweeping over the man’s familiar yet unfamiliar face. He still did double-takes every so often when he spotted Eddie’s unkempt and outgrown hair, along with the thin beard. He was pretty sure he’d never seen Eddie with facial hair in his _life_. It was certainly a baffling sight, but Richie loved it. Hell, he’d love Eddie no matter what he did with it. 

“You know,” Richie said as he reached up and pushed a few locks of hair out of Eddie’s face. He repeated the same movement multiple times, relishing in the feeling of playing with Eddie’s hair...which was something he _never_ used to let Richie do when they were younger. “I could get used to your hair like this,” Richie commented with a sly smirk, “It’s kinda hot.” 

Richie swore his heart stopped, and he meant _stopped_ , when he spotted the blush rising on Eddie’s cheeks. 

Jesus, Tozier. Quit acting like a fucking teenager. 

“No, no way,” Eddie eventually said, shaking his head. “We’re cutting it _tomorrow_.” 

“Fine,” Richie grumbled. He brought his hand down from Eddie’s hair and ghosted a knuckle right over the pink tinge of his cheek, smirking to himself when it grew to an even darker shade. “What about the beard?” 

“You like it?” Eddie asked, raising a curious brow. 

“You’re _you_ , Eds,” Richie replied, letting his hand slip back to his side and his eyes fall shut. He shifted on the bed, mindful not to bump into Eddie’s bandages, until his head rested comfortably on Eddie’s shoulder. A content sigh fell from his mouth when Eddie leaned his head over to rest on top of Richie’s. “Doesn’t matter what you do with your hair, I’ll always like it,” Richie added as he crossed his arms over his chest. He paused before adding, “But yeah, I really like the beard.” 

A few moments passed in silence. 

“...I’ll think about it,” Eddie eventually replied. Richie felt Eddie smile against him and his heart fluttered at the sensation.

“Fair enough,” Richie sighed, wrapping himself even tighter against the warmth of Eddie’s body. He knew it wasn’t, but he _swore_ this all had to be a dream. After so many hardships in his life, and after reaching such dark places in his mind from which he thought he’d never escape? 

It was the most surreal bliss. 

Eddie was _alive_ , he was _awake_ , and he was curled up against the man he _loved_. 

“So,” Richie said quietly, keeping his eyes shut as his exhaustion finally started to get the best of him, “This dream you had…” 

“Yeah?” Eddie asked. 

“What was it like being a ghost?” Richie asked with a light tone, “Did you, like, haunt us?” 

“No, Rich.” 

“Could you walk through walls?” Richie added, genuinely curious. 

“No, Rich.” 

“So you’d touch stuff and your hand wouldn’t just go through it?” Richie asked, perplexed. He didn’t really know what he was expecting, to be completely honest. The only reference he had to go off of was ghosts in television and movies. 

“No,” Eddie repeated, his voice quiet but thoughtful, “It was strange. I could work doors and pick things up, but I didn’t remember the act of doing them. They just kind of...happened. And then when I let go, they’d go back to how they were before. It was different with people, though. When I touched you _I_ could feel it all of it, but you never even knew I was there.” 

“Hm,” Richie chuckled thoughtfully to himself, as he snuggled his head closer to Eddie’s neck, “Kinky.” 

“Shut the _actual_ fuck up, dickwad,” Eddie snapped, but Richie could plainly hear the light tone of his view and knew without looking that the man was smiling. Richie cackled even louder at the comment, and he could feel Eddie’s body tense as he tried even harder not to laugh with him. “I _will_ punch you, wanna see if you’d feel _that_?” 

“Eddie, my love, you could beat the absolute shit out of me and I’d love every second of it,” Richie breathed in an exaggeratedly lovestruck voice. 

“That sounds like a _you_ problem,” Eddie chuckled in response, shaking his head against Richie’s. Their laughter died down after some time and they laid together in a comfortable silence. Richie shivered when Eddie reached across his chest and placed a soft hand on his hair and began to run his fingers through it. He felt Eddie take a deep breath beside him before speaking again. “Being a ghost fucking sucked, Richie.” 

Richie tensed a bit at the sudden change of tone in Eddie’s voice. The man grew very serious _very_ quickly, and Richie knew from experience that any fooling around right now would get him beeped in a heartbeat. “Yeah,” He sighed, recalling what Eddie had said before about everyone else not being able to hear him or see him, “Sounds like it.” 

“You cried every day,” Eddie uttered, not stopping the slow circles of his hands through Richie’s hair, “You locked yourself in your room and almost never come downstairs for _days_.” 

Tensing with dread, Richie silently listened as Eddie spoke. 

“I stayed with you, sat with you on the bed and watched over you all through the night,” Eddie admitted. His voice cracked once or twice, but he persisted nonetheless. “I tried to wipe your tears away, to hold your hand, to steady your shoulders, to caress your face...I tried so damn _hard_ , Richie...but you felt none of it.” 

...Jesus. 

A wave of fear struck Richie right in the heart, sending a pulse of adrenaline through his veins. It cleared the tiredness away in an instant. Richie shifted on the bed, turning to face Eddie with a pained expression as regret pooled within him for even bringing up the dream in the first place. Eddie stared back with wet, unblinking eyes. 

“There was nothing I could do,” Eddie choked out, his intense gaze never leaving Richie’s, “I was right there and I wanted to comfort you so fucking bad but I _couldn’t_.” 

“Eddie, I-” 

“I just had to _sit_ there and watch you _suffer_!” Eddie cried as fresh tears poured down his face. 

The words were like stones in Richie’s heart. 

He knew exactly what that was like. 

Richie spent over a week by Eddie’s bedside, watching him slip further and further away from his grasp. No matter what Richie did, there was nothing he could do to stop it. He wasn’t a doctor, he wasn’t a match for a liver transplant...he felt so fucking _useless_. Eddie was dying right before his eyes, and Richie was forced to sit there and take it. 

“The night before you left...” Eddie sucked in a sharp breath in an attempt to calm himself down with little to no avail. “...I tried...I tried to kiss you, but no matter how hard I tried you didn’t know I was there and I was so fucking cold and I couldn’t even feel the warmth of your body anymore and it hurt so much Rich it broke me down again and again until there was nothing left-” 

“Hey, hey,” Richie breathed quickly, reaching out and grabbing the hands Eddie planted on either side of his face. He gripped them firmly and pulled them down until they rested in Eddie’s lap. Richie didn’t let go and held Eddie’s hands even tighter when he spoke again. “Eddie?” 

Eddie said nothing, but flicked his eyes up to meet Richie’s stare. 

“That’s how I felt, too,” Richie confessed. He made sure to keep his stare focused directly on Eddie’s and to not look away. “I sat in that chair right over there and watched the life leave your body with every minute, and there was absolutely nothing I could do. It tore me apart, and I...I knew that if you lost your life, then so would I.” 

Silence followed. 

Something changed in Eddie’s expression as the pair remained frozen, their gazes locked in an exchange untouched by time. Gradually, like melting frost on a spring morning, the anguish faded from Eddie’s face and was replaced with a resolute stare of both sadness and understanding. It was then they both came to realize that, in one way or another, they’d spent their time waiting in agony for the other to come back to them. 

Richie hated knowing that Eddie had gone through such a similar dilemma as him, remembering first-hand the torment it brought upon not only him but the other Losers as well. They’d already been through so much, but apparently it wasn’t enough for mercy. And in all honesty? Eddie had it so much worse than him, thinking both he and Stanley were dead. At least Richie had the small comfort of knowing they all survived, despite the uncertain outcome. 

A sigh fell from Richie’s lips as he gently lifted his hands from Eddie’s and brought them up to the man’s shoulders. Eddie mirrored his movements almost immediately, not hesitating to pull Richie back into his arms. Richie shivered when he wrapped his arms around Eddie and laid his head on his shoulder. As Eddie pulled him close, Richie nestled in tightly and focused his attention on Eddie’s slowing breaths. 

In, and out. 

Eddie felt so warm. 

In, and out. 

Richie felt safe in his arms. 

In, and out. 

Letting his eyes fall shut as the embrace of sleep welcomed him once more, Richie smiled softly to himself. Between the two of them, they’d seen more than any person every should, and went through some extremely fucked up shit that would haunt them forever. But here they both sat, living and awake, holding each other in their arms as if they’d been doing it for their entire lives. They had been in a sense, Richie supposed. He and Eddie had always been more touchy-feely than the other Losers. But even so, this time was different. 

No, it wasn’t the first time Richie held the man he loved in his arms...it was the first time Richie _knew_ that the man he held so dearly loved him back.

“This still doesn’t feel real,” Richie whispered as he felt himself drifting into the early stages of sleep. 

“What doesn’t?” Eddie asked, the same exhaustion overtaking his voice as well. 

“This,” Richie replied as he gently squeezed Eddie with his arms, overly careful not to put too much pressure on the areas that were still healing. 

“It’s real, Richie,” Eddie uttered. He laid his cheek against the top of Richie’s head and exhaled slowly. “It’s so real.” 

A tired chuckle fell from Richie’s mouth before he yawned. Flashes of memories flowed across his thoughts, each more vivid than the last. He remembered the fight in the cavern, the lethal race to the hospital, the surgeries, the waiting, the transplants, the breakdown...the phone call. The images still seared his mind as they appeared, but they seemed numbed now, like the pain was subdued. 

Clutching Eddie tighter, Richie felt the ease of relief grow even stronger as the same pictures blurred in his mind. All of that pain, all of that suffering...finally put to rest in the darkest shadows of his head. They couldn’t take control of him anymore, not now that everyone knew his secret, and that Eddie was awake and loved him back. 

The clown may have been long dead, but this was the night Richie’s battle finally came to an end. 

It was over. 

He won. 

“Hey,” Eddie said, his calm voice pulling Richie back to the present. 

“Hm?” Richie hummed. 

“I love you, Rich,” Eddie replied, those four short words sending an exhilarating and relieving elation pouring out from Richie’s heart. 

Smiling widely as his heart thumped wildly in his chest, Richie whispered his response, taking in every single moment in bliss. “I love you too, Eddie Spaghetti.” 

Sleep found Richie quickly, and no nightmares came. 

They slept soundly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Saturn - Sleeping at Last
> 
> You taught me the courage of stars before you left  
> How light carries on endlessly even after death  
> With shortness of breath you explained the infinite  
> How rare and beautiful it is to even exist
> 
> I couldn't help but ask  
> For you to say it all again  
> I tried to write it down  
> But I could never find a pen  
> I'd give anything to hear  
> You say it one more time  
> That the universe was made  
> Just to be seen by my eyes  
> I couldn't help but ask  
> For you to say it all again  
> I tried to write it down  
> But I could never find a pen  
> I'd give anything to hear  
> You say it one more time  
> That the universe was made  
> Just to be seen by my eyes
> 
> With shortness of breath, I'll explain the infinite  
> How rare and beautiful it truly is that we exist


	36. Turning Page

“Hey, did you ever text Stan to tell him we’re almost there?” Ben asked from behind the steering wheel. He shot a quick glance over towards Beverly, who suddenly straightened up in the passenger seat and snatched her phone. Holding back a chuckle, Ben listened as Beverly frantically tapped away on the screen, pressed send, and slid her phone back into her pocket. 

“Yup, sure did,” Beverly answered nonchalantly. Ben didn’t even have to turn to her to see the smile tugging at the corners of her lips. 

“Okay good, just thought I’d check,” Ben replied, now smiling. 

They pulled into the hospital’s entrance just minutes later and parked in the closest spot towards the main doors. Ben hopped out of the car first, quickly jogging around to the other side to get the door for Beverly. When he opened it, however, he found her unmoving in her seat with her seatbelt still on. 

“Hey,” Ben said, leaning one hand on the car’s roof and the other on the door as he ducked his head low enough for Beverly to see. “You okay?” 

Beverly’s eyes fell to the fidgeting hands in her lap as she exhaled heavily. Ben remained silent at her side, waiting patiently while he watched her take another few moments to collect her thoughts. Another minute or two passed before she finally unbuckled her seatbelt and swung her legs out of the car to face Ben. “Yeah, I’m okay,” Beverly answered, wearing a small but kind smile, “I just couldn’t stop thinking about that day while we pulled in.” 

Tilting his head in confusion, Ben stared at Beverly expectantly. 

“Neibolt, Eddie,” Beverly clarified. She rubbed her hands nervously on her thighs as if trying to distract herself from the thoughts. “I sat in this seat when we drove him to the hospital...I was so scared, Ben.” 

Ben offered her a sad smile. “He’s okay now, Bev. You helped save him.” 

“I know,” Beverly said, half-smiling back as she quickly reached up to wipe under her eyes with the back of her fingers. 

“Eddie’s probably up there running his mouth off,” Ben added in a lighter tone, “It might be everyone else who needs saving now.” 

Beverly giggled at that as she finally stood from her seat and shut the car door. Ben met her gaze and felt his heart jump at the sight. The way she looked at him...eyes glimmering in the soft golden glow of the building’s lights and a grin wider than he’d ever seen...he dreamed about it for years. It was the same way he had always looked at her from afar, a silent dance of shifting gazes and stares.

A language of averted eyes. 

Ben still remembered the day he first met Beverly at school. She smiled at him so kindly and even went out of her way to warn him about Bowers on the other side of the school. Then, to Ben’s astonished surprise, she pulled out his yearbook and signed her name, making the only mark those pages would ever hold...the same way Ben’s heart only ever burned for her. 

_Your hair is winter fire_. 

From the moment they met, Ben knew Beverly was an absolute force of nature that couldn’t be contained. She was fierce, independent, and stronger than anyone he’d ever met in his entire life. Even as kids, Beverly exemplified everything Ben strived to be and more. 

_January embers._

Ben wanted Beverly to know it. He wanted to make sure she _knew_ just how special she truly was...so he wrote her a poem at the library. It wasn’t something he’d done before, and it took him forever just to find the words he wanted to say. He must’ve spent hours in that chair working over those few short lines. But to Ben? Beverly was worth it. 

_My heart burns there, too._

As children, those words were just a mere confession of love for a secret crush. 

It was nothing compared to the weight those same words carried when the Losers all returned to Derry as adults. Little did Ben know, Beverly hid the postcard he’d written her away...buried deep inside the walls of her childhood home where her father would _never_ find it. The card was stained ten times over and the paper was held together by two long strands of tape. Beverly didn’t care about that, though. She had her heart set on the words scribed along the back in pen as they entranced her for the second time in her life. 

_I remember the boy who wrote it for me. Not him, so much, but...how he made me feel_. 

She thought it was Bill who wrote it. 

Ben could still feel the agony that ripped through his chest at the sound of his name. It’s not that Ben disliked Bill, no that wasn’t it at all. He hated to admit it when they were just kids, but Ben was jealous of him. 

Ben _envied_ Bill.

It first struck when they cleaned Beverly’s bathroom together when Ben caught the two alone, then again when Ben left the blood oath and left them behind. He silently cried as he walked away, heart breaking at the sight. Beverly looked at Bill the same way Ben had looked at her. But Ben never brought it up, never said a single thing. As long as Beverly was happy, and as long as Ben could look over at her and see her wearing that same smile that nearly sent him to his knees with every glance... 

...Then that was enough. 

But then, after so many years apart, the Losers returned to Derry and flipped Ben’s world up on its head. 

Ben kept that yearbook page in his wallet every day after he moved away from Derry. He’d pull it out and stare at it for hours on end, reminiscing in the memories he’d made with the girl that still owned his heart. Time passed, however, and Ben’s memory slowly began to fade. And yet, that piece of paper never left Ben’s wallet even after he’d forgotten the single name scrawled onto it. 

Ben never forgot Beverly’s face, not completely. 

He’d stare at the hand-written name every now and again, often finding himself able to draw an image of someone in his mind. It was a blurred yet familiar face, their hair with sparks of bright red and gold that burned like a fire. Ben was certain they’d never met before, though, for he would’ve remembered meeting somebody that breathtaking. It wasn’t until the night Ben returned to Derry did everything come rushing back. He recognized the woman standing outside the restaurant as the blurred, fiery woman who dwelled between his thoughts for all those years. And when she turned, eyes gleaming and hair glowing, her gaze met Ben’s and he finally remembered her name. 

Beverly Marsh. 

January Embers. 

Seeing her again brought back the same unrelenting adoration, but it also brought back the same fear that pooled within his core as a child. When Ben and the other Losers fought the clown down in the cistern, Beverly remained trapped in the Deadlights. He panicked, turning to the others for help while screaming her name, but they just stared back at him with helpless expressions. 

That’s when Ben kissed her. 

The kiss pulled Beverly back to the present, the ghost-like appearance of her eyes slowly fading back to their natural color. 

_January embers?_

_My heart burns there, too_. 

Ben thought they’d be together after that, but they weren’t. Her eyes were set towards Bill after the blood oath, but even after they drifted away from him...they never fell towards Ben. Had she forgotten the poem? Did she never feel that way about him? Ben never knew the answer, because he never had the courage to ask. 

He was overweight as a child, and the clown never let him forget it. 

_Kiss me, fat boy!_

It even went as far as to tell him the words as Beverly. 

_You actually thought I could like someone as fat and gross and disgusting as you?_

It made Ben believe that nobody could ever love him because of his body. That kind of fear, something rooted so deeply in the foundations of his self-esteem, never went away even after the memories of the clown fled Ben’s mind as he grew older. He pushed himself hard and lost the weight, expecting to feel some sense of gratification or fulfillment once he’d achieved his goal. But Ben felt nothing. He never understood why until he found himself being buried alive with dirt in the Clubhouse he built as a child...face-to-face with the entity that plagued his vulnerable mind. 

_All that success, all those sit-ups, but deep down still just a little fat, fat, fatty loser...who always knew he would die alone!_

It was in that moment that Ben discovered the truth, the _real_ truth that It tried to hide from him for so long. There was nothing wrong with how he looked, not then and now when he was a kid. Before the clown, the only thing stopping Ben from telling Beverly how he felt himself was his fear of driving her away. He didn’t have any real friends as a kid besides the Losers and he was too afraid to risk losing Beverly over something like that.

_Beverly!_

All Ben had to do was stop being so _afraid_ to speak up for himself. 

_Beverly, can you hear me?!_

Beverly had to know that he’d do anything for her, no matter what. 

_Beverly, I love you!_

Everything happened so quickly after that. Beverly, soaked from head-to-toe with steaming hot blood, reached down and pulled Ben out of the Clubhouse and into her arms. 

Then she looked at him, she really _looked_ at him for the first time. 

_January embers?_

_My heart burns there, too_. 

_It was you?_

Ben dreamed of the day Beverly would looked back at him like that, just as he had at her ever since they were children. 

It was everything to him. 

_Beverly_ was everything to him, and Ben promised to never let her slip away again. He still woke on some mornings, heart leaping when he turned to look over in his bed and found Beverly there sleeping soundly beside him. All of it felt like an endless dream. Something so good and so beautiful that, at any moment, he’d wake up and it’d all be taken away from him. 

But it was real. 

And it wasn’t just Beverly’s reciprocated love that was real...it was everything. The Losers went back to Derry, fought the clown together for a second time, and every single one of them survived. Stanley and Eddie had reached the brink of death, their hearts stopping for longer than Ben could even bare to think about. Yet, after so much pain and so much grief, it was finally over. 

They won for good. 

And this time, it felt so much better than it did when they were children. 

Ben was the new kid before everything went down. Nobody liked him very much. As a result, Ben spent nearly all of his time alone at the library. He found solace in burying his head into books that stacked taller than he stood. Most of the time, that was enough for him. There was plenty to read on the history of Derry, and Ben only thought it appropriate to learn more about the new town he had started calling home. 

There were some days, though, when Ben would gaze out the window and find himself lost in the breeze that danced between the branches of trees along the road. The sight put his mind at ease when he felt troubled and it offered a welcoming comfort. All those days, Ben never knew what he’d been searching for out that window...not until he met the other Losers. 

They’d ride by sometimes, gliding faster than the wind and down the street. Bill almost always led the way, shouting for his bike to ride even faster when the others caught up with him. 

_Hi ho, Silver! Away!_

_Your old lady bike is too fast for us!_

Ben knew them as nothing more than a few familiar faces from school. That all changed, though, when Bowers and the others cornered Ben one day. They put a knife to his stomach, carving gashes into his skin so deeply that they drew blood and left a scar that never fully faded. But then Ben managed to slip away from their grasp and found himself tumbling down the forest path that led to the Barrens. 

That’s where he found them, the Losers. 

Bill, Stanley, Richie, and Eddie. 

They helped him without a second thought, taking him to the pharmacy on their bikes and even going far as _stealing_ supplies from the store so they could bandage him up. People Ben barely knew did all those things for him out of pure kindness, and he swore he’d never forget it. 

As Eddie bandaged him up outside the pharmacy, Richie standing close behind and offering encouragement in a terrible British accent, Ben felt something deep down inside him. It told him that his life would change forever that day... 

...And it most certainly had.

After moving to Derry, it was nothing new for Ben to not have any super close friends. He didn’t mind spending most of his time alone, especially when it meant keeping away from the bullies at school. But then Ben met the Losers and discovered everything he’d been missing out on. Finally, after so much time, he knew what it was like to have good friends who genuinely cared about you. 

It wasn’t long before the size of their club grew from five to six to seven. 

And together, those kids hunted down and defeated a murderous clown to rescue Beverly from its clutches. After such an ordeal, the Losers became so much more than ordinary friends. They were the only whos who could truly understand each other’s trauma and be there to offer support. Nobody else knew what happened when they ventured into those sewers, and nobody would ever know how those events shaped them into the people they were today. 

To have lost sight of those treasured people for so many years pained Ben in more ways than he could count. He’d lived his life after Derry alone, the space in his home far too large and far too empty with only him in it. It was undoubtedly a beautiful house, but Ben struggled to find said beauty without someone to share it with. It was like that deep down, somewhere in the most repressed corners of his brain, Ben still remembered the Losers. 

He didn’t remember them directly, though. No names, no faces. All he could feel was the sense of belonging to a small group of close-knit people. It was a constant, nagging feeling that ached in his head and never left his thoughts alone. Years passed before Ben could finally grow accustomed to the sensation. Ben figured that, in some length of time, he’d find the meaning behind his strange instinctive belonging and be able to pinpoint its origin. So Ben waited, never knowing whether his answer would come to him in ten days or ten years. It was his inevitable return to Derry that finally _did_ provide the answer for his question. 

The Loser’s Club. 

They all faced countless hardships to reach the point where they stood at today, hand-in-hand as they still basked in the permanent defeat of the evil clown. The memories from those horrific events still haunted Ben’s dreams, but the things he’d done and seen were all worth it to him. He lived so much of his life hearing the calls of his heart yet never knowing the owner of the song. Years passed before he began to fear that he’d never find his place amongst the stars in the expanse space of his world. 

It was tiring, isolating, and deafening. 

But then, Ben received his phone call from Mike and triggered the voice within his heart to sing louder and clearer than it ever had before. After so many years of unspoken torment, Ben’s seclusive search was finally over. He recovered the family he’d lost all that time ago. 

The Losers. 

Beverly. 

Of only one thing Ben was absolutely certain. He never planned on letting his family slip through his grasp again. Not now, not ever. This, this right here at this very hospital, would be their brand-new start. A chance a happy lives without the toxic town of Derry and the misery It thrust upon them at such a young age. All things came to an end eventually, it seemed. 

Except, maybe, for love. 

With an adoring smile on his face, Ben stood up straight with both his legs pressed together tightly. He stuck one hand behind his back and extended the other out in front of him before bowing slightly. “Shall we?” He asked, throwing an excited glance back at Beverly. 

Beverly laughed even louder this time as she nodded and took Ben’s hand in hers. She let him pull her close until they were face-to-face, Ben taking in every detail of her face as she closed in. They sealed their lips in a quick but affectionate kiss, the act nearly sending Ben to his knees. It didn’t matter how many times Beverly kissed him. To Ben, it would always feel like the rush het got when sailing his boat on early summer mornings. Wind in his hair, a spray of water on his face, the warmth of sunlight on his skin. 

Exhilaration. 

Pulling away and holding Ben’s hand tightly in hers, Beverly smiled widely as she led Ben to the hospital’s main entrance. They were met with a welcoming gust of heated air upon entry, thankful for the warmth after standing out in the cool evening breeze of autumn. The pair made it no more than ten steps past the threshold before Ben jumped, startled when Beverly suddenly called out to the others. 

“HEY, LOSERS!” Beverly all but shouted, her grin widening as she quickened her pace and pulled Ben with her. Ben laughed at her side when the others jumped at the loud, echoing sound. Their surprised expressions were quick to fade from their faces, however, when Beverly opened her arms wide and met them all in one large embrace. “See? I _told_ you we’d make it in time!” Beverly laughed, shooting a playful glance at Stanley. 

Stanley, who’d texted them to “hurry the hell up or they wouldn’t be able to see Eddie until tomorrow,” smirked in response. 

One by one, the group broke apart. Those who had been waiting in the lobby grabbed their things from the chairs before heading back towards the hallway leading to Eddie’s room. Ben shot a nervous but excited look at Beverly, who mirrored his expression as she stared back. 

This was the first time all seven Losers would be together, alive, and _awake_ since they were kids. It was a moment they’d all been dreaming of. They’d begged the world to give them a second chance at friendship they’d been so unfairly deprived of, and so greatly deserved. Now that their wish was a reality, the anticipation that built during their long walk to the hospital room grew so unbearable Ben could barely breathe. 

“How was your flight?” Mike asked as they walked, throwing a quick glance over his shoulder as he spoke. 

“Good,” Beverly answered. She still squeezed Ben’s hand tightly in hers, having never let go since she first grabbed it in the parking lot. “Surely not as bad or nearly as long as yours.” 

Bill laughed from beside Ben. “We landed hours ago and I _still_ can’t s-straighten my back all the way without it hurting.” 

Ben glanced over at Bill with widening, pleased eyes. He knew Bill had been working on his stutter with Richie, but hearing him speak in person made a world of difference. It was almost completely gone. Bill caught his stare and seemed to catch on, throwing Ben an appreciative half-smile in return. 

“What about Eddie?” Ben asked, the anticipation of the walk slowly killing him. He _swore_ it never took this long before. “How’s he doing? Did we miss anything? Did Joey-” 

“He’s okay,” Mike smiled with evident relief in his voice. 

“Okay?” Stanley scoffed loudly from beside Mike, “I think he’s doing far better than okay. He’s doing pretty damn _great_ if you ask me.” 

Beverly’s smile faltered as the others suddenly exchanged a few quick, knowing smirks with each other. She shot a confused look at Ben, who only shrugged in response. 

“What do you mean?” Beverly asked Stanley, stepping ahead to the front of the group. Ben followed behind closely, not wanting to detach himself from Beverly’s firm but excited grasp. 

Before Stanley could answer, the group found themselves standing at the end of Eddie’s hall. A short silence fell between them as Stanley threw another quick glance at the others. Ben frowned when he saw them nod back at Stanley, far too lost in their game of unspoken words to try and catch up. “You’ll see,” Patty answered cheerfully before Stanley could, nodding in the direction of Eddie’s room, “You two go in first, we’ll be right behind you.” 

Ben shared one final look of perplexion with Beverly before they turned and slowly walked towards the door leading to Eddie’s room. Excitement built in Ben’s stomach as he approached, sending vibrations of pure energy surging outwards through his body. He shivered at the sensation, unable to stop the smile growing on his face. The door was propped halfway open and Ben didn’t hesitate to push it forward once they’d reached the threshold. He was about to step forward when the sudden, tightening grip of Beverly’s hands on his held him in his place. Confused, Ben followed Beverly’s intense gaze and immediately understood why she’d frozen. 

Eddie laid in his bed, his hair longer and beard unshaved, sharing the tight space with no one other than _Richie_. The top of the bed was propped up a bit with Eddie’s back against it. His arms were loosely wrapped around Richie, who currently rested with his head nestled in Eddie’s neck. Half his body hung off the edge of the bed. Like Eddie’s, Richie’s arms were enclosed around Eddie’s upper torso in a gentle and cautious embrace. 

They were both sound asleep. 

Beverly gasped as her hand finally left Ben’s and flew up to cover her open mouth. Whipping around, she stared at the rest of the group with a completely shocked but hesitantly hopeful expression. Ben watched her gaze drift from one person to the next, each of them returning the same confirmatory nod to question she never asked out loud. 

Her eyes gleamed with fresh tears when her stare finally fell upon Patty, who smiled and teased her a quiet, “Told you that you’d see.” 

Ben smiled with a shocked disbelief, his eyes darting back and forth between Stanley and the bed that held Eddie and most of Richie. “They’re...”

“Yup,” Stanley replied to Ben’s unfinished question with a knowing expression, wrapping an arm around Patty’s shoulders as they both smiled back at Ben. 

“Eddie...he…” Beverly started, in just as much awe as Ben. “He’s…”

“Mhm,” Mike nodded. 

Beverly frowned, the shock of the news never fully leaving her face. “But...what about his wife?” 

“Well, none of use were present for that, but…” Bill paused, contemplating the right way to phrase his answer, “According to Joey, he w-woke up and asked for a divorce ten minutes after she showed up.” 

Beverly and Ben stared blankly. 

“All I know is that Eddie was really upset with Myra for s-something,” Bill added, shrugging, “He doesn’t wanna talk about it.” 

In perfect synchronization, Beverly and Ben gazed back into Eddie’s room and took in the scene before them. 

It was staggeringly beautiful. 

Beverly sniffed, her hand shooting up to wipe away her fresh tears. The same overwhelming sensation overcame Ben as a relieved smile appeared on his face. He wrapped his arms around Beverly’s torso from behind before leaning forward to rest his chin on her shoulder. The pair swayed back and forth ever so slightly as Ben held her close, each of them caught in a trance at the sight of something so wonderfully astonishing. 

Ben shivered again as another wave of adrenaline struck him hard. A jubilant energy pulsed through him, overwhelming his senses and blocking out the world around him. Focusing on Richie’s sleeping face, Ben found himself grinning. He and Richie unknowingly walked down an identical path, side-by-side but both blocked from the other’s view. 

Every since their youth, Ben’s heart belonged to Beverly and Richie’s belonged to Eddie. Together, Ben and Richie felt the same longing for one of their closest friends. Yet, they let their fear of trepidation stop them from ever letting those feelings come to light and expressing them with confidence. Sure, Ben wrote his poem on that postcard and Richie carved his initials on the Kissing Bridge...but to act on those feelings? After everything the clown did and said to them...how could they? 

Ben knew, though, that the root of Richie’s fear was far different from his own. 

He never could’ve imagined what it was like for Richie to grow up in such a terrible town with the worst kinds of people who shamed anyone who was _different_. For Richie to feel _so_ afraid that he didn’t even feel safe telling his secret to his closest friends in the world? His family? The notion made Ben feel so furious. To know that such dark fears lied beneath Richie’s light-hearted and carefree demeanor made his blood boil and shook him to his core. 

If the clown wasn’t already dead, Ben would’ve beaten It to a pulp five times over for making Richie feel that way. 

For making Richie think he’d die alone and unloved... 

...The same way It made Ben feel. 

Ben remembered the day when Richie came back to the Townhouse from retrieving his token in Derry, clearly disturbed by what he’d seen as he forced his way upstairs and declared that he was leaving. 

_”Move, move,” Richie snapped as he strode towards the stairs, hands shoved forcefully in his pockets._

_”What’s wrong?” Beverly asked as both her and Ben stood abruptly. Richie practically shoved past them, blatantly ignoring their concerned stares._

_”I’m leaving,” Richie replied plainly. He scaled the stairs with loud, uncaring thuds._

_“What?” Ben gaped, sharing a concerned glance with Beverly at the bottom of the stairs. “We can’t leave, man. We split, we all die.”_

_Richied paused when he reached the turn of the mantle. He glared down at them with an anger Ben had never seen. Something really terrible happened, something so bad that Richie was about to leave Derry and abandon them because of it. When Richie spoke again, a dark shadow covered his face and gave him an ominous look. “Yeah, I’ll take my chances,” He muttered, “We’re gonna die anyways.”_

_Another second passed and Richie was gone, having vanished upstairs and into his room. Ben followed close behind, striding quickly down the hall and through Richie’s door before the man had the chance to lock him out._

_“Wanna tell me what that was about?” Ben asked._

_Richie ignored him as he strode hastily strode around the room, snatching various items he’d left sitting out. He tossed them into his open duffel bag on the bed before entering the bathroom. Ben remained where he stood, blocking the doorway with his body until Richie emerged just moments later with a handful of toiletries. The man zipped his bag shut, threw it over his shoulder, and stalked right up to Ben. “Move, Ben,” Richie muttered in that same sinister tone._

_“No,” Ben shot back, standing up straighter and widening his stance to take up the entire doorway. Richie wasn’t getting out unless Ben said so. “Not until you talk to me.”_

_Richie seemed to have the same realization as his eyes darted from Ben’s eyes and his broad form that blocked the exit almost completely. A loud groan escaped his mouth, his bag slipping from his shoulder and onto the wooden floor. Richie turned, back facing Ben, before starting to pace back-and-forth across the entire length of his room. “Fuck you and your insanely massive soccer-player build, Ben.”_

_Ben huffed a breath through his nose, shaking his head. He almost would’ve laughed if it wasn’t for their situation. “Come on, Rich. What happened?”_

_A heavy sigh fell from Richie’s lips as he slowed to a sudden stop. “...Nothing.”_

_“Okay we BOTH know that’s not true,” Ben said more firmly, growing impatient but refusing to let it show. Richie was clearly hurting and he didn’t want to make it any worse than it already was. “Please, Richie.”_

_Another pause._

_“I…” Richie said, his hands forming tight fists in his jacket pockets once more, “...I can’t tell you.”_

_“Why not?” Ben asked, shaking his head helplessly._

_“Because I fucking can’t, Ben,” Richie snapped back. His arm shot forward for emphasis, hand in a straight blade...just as Eddie so often did._

_“But-” Ben started, only to cut himself off when he spotted something that fell out of Richie’s pocket when he removed his hand so abruptly. It was a small, crumpled paper. There was a picture with writing on it. “What is this?” Ben asked, striding forward to pick up the paper. Richie stared at the object, his eyes bulging from his face in complete shock...almost as if he didn’t know it was there until now._

_Richie was on him in an instant._

_“Give that BACK!” Richie shouted in a frenzied voice, startling Ben as he snagged the paper from the ground and took a few steps backwards. “I’m NOT dicking around, Haystack, give that back RIGHT NOW!”_

_Ben reached out an arm to hold Richie back, the man furiously swiping for the paper he held in his other hand. In the few seconds he had before Richie finally grabbed ahold on the slip, Ben managed to make out the words “In Loving Memory of Richard Tozier: 1976-2016.”_

_An obituary...for Richie._

_Using Ben’s distracted state to his advantage, Richie was able to grab the paper with his other hand and pull harshly. The paper, however, still locked in Ben’s strong grip, ripped in two. Stumbling back, Richie stared back at Ben in horror until he glanced down at the paper in his hand. Ben watched as he frantically flipped it over, skimmed the written text, and sighed with relief._

_Richie tore the paper to shreds._

_Glancing down at the small fragment of paper left between his fingers, Ben was able to make out the final two sentences of what must’ve been a tribute...written by none other than It._

_His death is the punchline to the only funny joke he ever made: His life._

_He is survived by nobody, and will not be missed._

_“Rich…” Ben breathed in horror, reading the words again and feeling their sting. He took a step forward, only to stop in his tracks when Richie backed away from him. Was he cowering?_

_“I fucking told you,” Richie forced out, clearly struggling to maintain his composure. Even through the glasses, Ben could see the painful tears welling in his friend’s eyes. “It was nothing.”_

_“You can’t listen to It, Richie,” Ben said, taking another step closer. The words on that shred of paper may have been meant for Richie, but they tore at Ben’s heart all the same. He knew what that felt like. “It’s lying and you know it.”_

_“But what if It isn’t?” Richie challenged as he threw his arms out to the side in question. “That paper really wasn’t far off about how much my life sucks.”_

_“...You think you don’t have anyone?” Ben asked accusingly, “Nobody who’d miss you?”_

_“No, I KNOW I don’t,” Richie spat back, the pain in his eyes growing more apparent with every word that left his mouth._

_“That’s not true, Richie.”_

_“Yeah? And how the hell would you know?” Richie pushed, a newfound anger in his voice. “We forgot each other for over two decades!”_

_Silence._

_“Then what does that make us, Richie? Strangers?” Ben questioned. He didn’t bother masking the hurt expression growing on his face._

_Something shifted in Richie’s eyes, as if he suddenly realized what he’d just said. He panicked, stepping further back into the room as he actively worked to keep his breathing steady. Ben frowned when Richie’s eyes darted towards the pile of shredded papers on the floor. He stared at it as if it spoke to him, listening to every word it whispered. “I...I…” Richie stuttered with a new anguished tone, shaking his head, “I’m sorry, I just...can’t tell you.”_

_It was now clear Richie wasn’t ready to talk about it._

_Ben’s heart broke at the sight, his need to comfort his friend overtaking anything else in his mind. He strode forward and, despite Richie’s protests and attempts to flee, Ben pulled the man into a strong hug. “We’re your family, Richie, and we all care about you so much,” Ben said quietly but firmly, “We all got a little lost along the way, but now we’re together again. You’ll always have us.”_

_After some time, Richie eventually gave in to the embrace and loosely hugged Ben back. He trembled a bit, but if Ben noticed he said nothing. They pulled apart when Richie finally calmed down before Ben sat him on the edge of the bed and grabbed his bag to place back in the corner of the room._

_Ben waited until he reached the door to speak again, one hand on the doorknob and the other on the wooden frame. “Take a minute and cool down, alright?” He asked, a pleading look on his face, “Come back downstairs with Bev and I when you’re ready. We can win this together, Richie, but not without you.”_

_Richie nodded silently, and Ben stepped out before closing the door behind him._

Ben remembered cornering Richie in his room, desperately trying to convince him to stay. He remembered looking Richie in the eyes and being met with a pain so deep he’d never seen or felt anything like it before. He remembered the darkened tone in Richie’s voice, and how it felt so empty. 

Richie was so terrified in that moment, and now Ben knew exactly why.

Although Ben never learned what exactly was in that obituary, he had a strong hunch. The way Richie stared so fearfully at that paper? The way he fought so _ferociously_ to try and get it out of Ben’s clutch before he could read it? It was the same horrified expression Richie wore before the night he broke down in Eddie’s room and told them the secret he’d kept hidden for so long. 

The fear the clown instilled in Richie’s mind as a child never fully went away and, if anything, it only grew _stronger_ with every passing year. Ben hating thinking back to how terrible of a state Richie was in those few months ago, and how sometimes, just between him and Beverly, they were just as worried about Richie as they were about Eddie. Before those nights, Ben had _never_ seen Richie cry like that before. But those nights were over, for Richie conquered the clown’s voice in his mind and Eddie was awake. 

Eddie was awake and loved Richie back. 

To see the pair embracing each other so closely and so naturally made Ben’s heart swell with both pride and joy. Richie had come such a long way since that talk in the Townhouse. A time in which he was so scared to open up about _anything_ in fear of retaliation and rejection. 

But now? 

Richie found the courage he needed to come out to not only his friends, but to the man he adored more than anything. And, as it seemed, Eddie had gone through a very similar trial of his own. Even in their sleep, they both held each other so tenderly, so lovingly. With a door now open to the world, neither of them were afraid to hide how they felt any longer. 

They loved each other, and that was all that mattered. 

Ben squeezed himself around Beverly even tighter. He pulled her close as she laughed quietly at the gesture. Using Richie’s own words, Ben found his happy ending with Beverly. It was only fair that Richie and Eddie had their own too, and now it finally seemed they might get that chance after all. 

Ben smiled fondly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Turning Page - Sleeping at Last 
> 
> I’ve waited a hundred years  
> But I’d wait a million more for you  
> Nothing prepared me for  
> What the privilege of being yours would do
> 
> If I had only felt the warmth within your touch  
> If I had only seen how you smile when you blush  
> Or how you curl your lip when you concentrate enough  
> Well I would have known  
> What I was living for all along  
> What I’ve been living for
> 
> Your love is my turning page  
> Where only the sweetest words remain  
> Every kiss is a cursive line  
> Every touch is a redefining phrase
> 
> I surrender who I’ve been for who you are  
> For nothing makes me stronger than your fragile heart  
> If I had only felt how it feels to be yours  
> Well I would have known  
> What I’ve been living for all along  
> What I’ve been living for
> 
> Though we’re tethered to the story we must tell  
> When I saw you, well I knew we’d tell it well  
> With a whisper we will tame the vicious seas  
> Like a feather bringing kingdoms to their knees


	37. Growing Pains

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: IMPLIED DOMESTIC ABUSE

_Hey, what’s up?_

Beverly stood, enveloped in the comfort of Ben’s arms, laughing with an elation she hadn’t felt in such a long time. They swayed together on their feet, smiling at the sight that stretched out before them. 

_Can we talk?_

But as the sound of her own voice echoed loudly inside her head, Beverly found herself trapped in a vicious cycle of bittersweet sorrow as it clashed with her newfound joy. 

_I’m so sorry, Bevvie_.

The mere memory of the conversation that still wringed her heart of all its guilt, letting it pour freely through the rest of her being. 

_When did you figure it out...that you were gay?_

She could still feel the gnawing ache in her chest when Richie spoke the words that would forever lay trapped in her mind. 

_I think I always kinda knew, deep down. I just never wanted to believe it when we were kids. I hoped that if I ignored it, it would just go away on its own. Then everyone would forget what they used to say about me._

Richie was one of Beverly’s best friends. 

She should have known, yet somehow she’d missed it. It was her job to be there for Richie when he needed her support and she felt like such a failure for letting him down. Beverly _knew_ it was the clown who was truly at fault, but that didn’t make her feel any better about Richie’s hesitation to approach her or the other Losers over something so important. 

_You’re my best friend, Rich. And when we were kids, I thought we could tell each other anything. I’m so sorry if I ever made it seem like you couldn’t._

It didn’t matter how many times Richie told her it wasn’t her fault...Beverly knew she would always blame herself for not making Richie feel safe enough to tell her the truth. 

_The clown was the one who told me from the start that nobody could ever know my secret, and he made me believe that...nobody would love me if the truth ever got out._

Hearing the words in Richie’s own voice made the feeling all too real. 

To Richie’s ignorance, Beverly was already aware of his deprecating intrusive thoughts. Ben told her and the other Losers everything out in the hallway while they gave Richie a few minutes alone with Eddie after the confession. 

Ben told them what he’d found in Richie’s pocket that day at the Townhouse. He told them how completely and utterly terrified Richie looked when he saw that Ben held it in his hands. He told them how Richie fought with such desperation to get the paper back from Ben before he read it. He told them…that...Richie truly believed he had nobody in this world that would miss him if he died because of his secret. 

The words tore at Beverly’s heart like nothing she’d ever heard. She felt betrayed, but pushed away the instinctual reaction as Ben explained how Richie let his anger get the best of him...how he apologized and nearly broke down at what he’d let slip from his mouth. Beverly never knew a single person could hold so many feelings in their heart at one time, let alone for nearly thirty years. 

But after that day at the hospital, there was nothing left to hide now that everyone knew Richie’s big secret. 

Things started making sense again...

Richie’s desperation to save Eddie even though he was on the absolute brink of death down in the cavern. The refusal to leave those double doors at Derry’s hospital while Eddie was in surgery until Beverly _forced_ him to go wash up. The constant unstable emotional state that seemed to break every time Richie so much as _looked_ at Eddie, the inability to sleep for _days_ after the fight at Neibolt, the nightmares that followed once he finally achieved sleep. The withdrawn speech that came with unfocused dazes, the unbearable pain in Richie’s eyes as he watched Eddie’s condition grow worse with every passing day. 

Beverly couldn’t even wrap her head around the concept as she heard the muffled yells coming from Eddie’s hospital room that night. And she supposed she never would, not completely. No matter how much Richie told her, and no matter how much she listened, Beverly would never have the first-hand experience of talking with the clown-like entity that dwelled in the shadows of Richie’s mind for far too long. 

Richie’s breakdown happened just minutes later. 

_There was a day when I overheard you say what the girls at school wrote about me on the bathroom stalls. I ran home as fast as I could before you saw me, locked myself in my bedroom, and cried almost the entire night. I was so fucking afraid, Bev._

Beverly couldn’t even _begin_ to imagine what it was like for Richie as a child, but she could see the pain in Richie’s eyes when he admitted what he’d heard her say when they were kids. 

She knew the memory well. 

_Beverly laid in the hammock of the Clubhouse, the room empty other than for her and Stanely, who sat on a wooden box across from her. Everyone else was heading over to Bill’s house to spend the night, but the pair opted to stay behind for just a few more minutes._

_“Did you hear?” Beverly asked quietly, staring up at the dirt and wood ceiling of the Clubhouse. After so many years of use, it still held up pretty well...except for that one partial cave-in they had during an extraordinarily bad winter._

_“Hear what?” Stanley asked, though the tone in his voice suggested he already knew what Beverly was referring to._

_“What they wrote about Richie on the girl’s bathroom stall,” Beverly replied, heart twisting as she recalled the words in her mind. She refused to repeat them out loud._

_“Oh,” Stanely muttered under his breath as he shifted tensely where he sat, “Yeah.”_

_A few moments of heavy silence passed._

_Beverly sat up in the hammock and swung her legs around to plant her feet on the dirt floor. She exhaled slowly, her eyes flicking up to meet Stanley’s waiting gaze. He was never an easy one to read, but Beverly could still make out the slightest hint of sadness in his eyes. Stanley was just as worried as she was whether he showed it or not. “I crossed it out,” Beverly said, eventually breaking the quiet that fell upon them. Her voice shook with both rage and concern for Richie. “I took a black marker and scribbled out the whole thing.”_

_“Good,” Stanley smiled sadly before his expression suddenly shifted to a frown. His head shot up to the closed door at the top of the ladder, remaining there for a few moments before he looked back towards Beverly. She didn’t think much of it._

_“They’re just gonna write it again, aren’t they?” Beverly asked, the fury consuming her body becoming too much to bear. She stood and started pacing back and forth as Stanley eyed her with a thoughtful but withdrawn expression. “They always call him that, it’s ALWAYS Richie,” Beverly seethed. She threw her hands down at her sides in frustration and let out a groan. “Have you seen his face when they say that stuff? He tries to hide it but I KNOW it bothers him.”_

_“Yeah, they’ll probably write it again,” Stanley admitted in a dark but truthful tone. “And if they do, you can always be there to cross it off, right?”_

_Beverly nodded with a sigh. “I just wish I could make them STOP altogether, I can’t stand seeing Richie so upset about it.”_

_Another beat of silence._

_“Hey Bev?” Stanley asked, voice jumping an octave and pulling Beverly’s attention to him. She stopped pacing and strolled over to where he sat, staring down at him with curious eyes._

_“Hm?”_

_“Do...do you think…Richie...” Stanley started. He tripped over his words as his head fell towards his lap, where he currently fiddled with both hands. Beverly frowned at the action but waited patiently for Stanley to finish. She wasn’t really sure where he was going with this. “...Nevermind.”_

_“What is it, Stanny?” Beverly asked, kneeling down a bit so that she was eye-level with the boy in front of her._

_“...It’s nothing,” Stanley replied as he suddenly shot up from the wooden box and made his way towards the ladder, “Come on, we should head over to Bill’s before it starts to get dark.”_

_Frowning quizzically, Beverly silently obliged and left with Stanley, his question remaining unspoken and unanswered._

It wasn’t until they returned to Derry as adults did Beverly finally realize what Stanley had probably been asking all those years ago. She pieced the events together quickly after Richie opened up about his secrets with the Losers. And suddenly, everything clicked inside her mind. Beverly tore her hair out at the clarity it gave to her re-surfacing childhood memories. 

The fragmented images in her head all fit together like a perfectly-carved puzzle. 

_I lived like that for over three decades, Bevvie._

Richie told her how he always kind of knew his sexuality somewhere deep down, and how long it took for him to realize that wasn’t just some phase that would go away on its own. 

_I was terrified of anyone discovering my secret, cutting people off when they got too close._

Stanley told her how It ravaged Richie’s mind from the inside-out, planting filthy lies that spread like overgrown weeds around his head. How It held him prisoner in his own thoughts, rendering him unable to tell the difference between reality and fiction. How It slowly sucked more life out of Richie with every passing day of its gradual torment. How It took over Richie’s life and forced him to live a life in isolation, fearing that any human connection would end in ruin and betrayal. 

_I lost so much time...time spent feeling so afraid, time I could’ve spent with all of you instead of...fuck…_

It was a precious stretch of time that could never be recovered. The notion pained Beverly’s heart as she tried to imagine what it’d be like to not only keep a secret like Richie’s for so many years, but to do so alone and without the support from family or friends. Drifting along with the pull of time like a leaf resting upon a river’s current. Lost to hope, strangers to life. 

Weightless, listless, lifeless…

Empty. 

Beverly knew the clown was gone for good, but she couldn’t shake the worry pooling in her heart that one day, once they all returned back home again...they’d forget. Just like they had the first time they left Derry. Memories built, lost, and recovered, all swiped away with the flick of a wrist. It was a fear that Beverly would never part with no matter how closely she held onto those close to her. 

With a sigh, Beverly stared at the couple on the bed, still caught in an oblivious slumber. She wished more than _anything_ to have caught it all sooner. It shouldn’t have taken her that long to piece it together, but moving to separate states and having your memories of Derry and each other wiped by the clown certainly didn’t help. A bittersweet pain struck Beverly’s heart as she took in the beautiful sight before her, a nervous surge of relief and remorse pouring through her. 

They’d all lost precious time, in the end. 

Now, Richie finally had a chance to make up for his lost time not only with the Losers, but the sole love of his life as well. A chance to mend the broken bonds between himself and his friends, and to forge even stronger ones with them in return. He was no longer bound by body or mind, and was free to open himself fully to the Losers for who he truly was. And if Richie finally felt safe enough to share that side of himself with his closest friends, then that was enough for Beverly. 

When Ben pulled away, Beverly reached down and slid her phone out of her pocket with one quick movement. She opened the camera through her locked screen and zoomed in on Eddie’s bed, careful to include all of Richie’s body, which still hung off half the side of the bed. A smile appeared on her face when she gazed at the image that popped up on her screen. 

The other Losers seemed to notice Beverly’s amusement, her growing smile quickly pulling Bill and Stanley over to stand behind her and Ben. The pair craned their necks to see into the room around the others. A confused expression painted itself on Beverly’s face until she finally heard a dismal voice curse from behind her. 

“Shit.” 

“Cough it up, Big Bill,” Stanley interjected without remorse, raising a finger with one hand while opening and closing in a repetitive grabbing motion. 

Bill sighed. “Fine.” 

Beverly let out an amused gasp, turning to face the pair behind her just in time to see Bill crankily hold out a crisp ten-dollar bill in one hand. Stanley snatched the money, chuckling to himself as Bill pouted in defeat. He shoved it in his back pocket while wearing a subtle yet smirk look of reluctant triumph. 

“What was that about?” Ben asked from beside Beverly, frowning. 

“Bill wanted to bet and see if we’d walk in on them sucking face for the _third_ time in a row,” Stanely explained, throwing a joking look at Bill. The man rolled his eyes in response, which made Stanley chuckle even harder. Stanley turned back to wink at the Beverly before adding, “I bet otherwise.” 

A third time?

That implied they’d already walked in on them _twice_.

Beverly glanced over at Bill, chuckling when he threw the same expression at her that he gave Stanley. The sight made Stanley break out into another fit of laughter, the pleasant sounds pulling the others in at Bill’s dismay. By the time the hallway had returned to its normal dull sounds, however, Bill was smiling too. 

“We should let them sleep, right?” Beverly asked quietly, flinching when she realized how loud they just were. 

“Too late for that.” 

Whipping her head at the voice emerging from Eddie’s room, Beverly’s heart swelled so brilliantly in her chest as she was met with the gaze of a man she thought she’d never see again. 

Eddie. 

“Hi sunshine,” Eddie breathed, blinking away his tiredness. He sat up a bit before realizing Richie was still asleep against his shoulder. Raising a gentle hand, Eddie nudged Richie’s arm and whispered, “Rich, wake up, Rich-” 

Richie shot into an upright position in seconds, sucking in a sharp breath as he quickly scanned his surroundings and recalled where he was. His eyes went to Eddie first, only to see the man had his gaze fixed on something at the door. Richie turned and met Beverly’s stare almost immediately. 

His eyes glistened. 

“Were all of you just…” Richie started before pausing to rub at his eyes. He was still half-asleep and spoke with a slow and slurred voice. “...watching us sleep? That’s not creepy at all.” 

Laughing as she started to sob, Beverly rushed forward and practically threw herself against her friends. Richie laughed when she landed right in his lap as she threw her arms up, wrapping around him and the other over Eddie. Beverly pulled them in _close_ , her laughs and cries intermixing and becoming indistinguishable. 

This was real. 

Eddie was alive...Eddie was _awake_. 

“Ah-” The man hissed in pain when Beverly shifted her weight on the bed, immediately causing her to shoot back and retract her arms into her chest. 

“Shit, sorry Eddie,” She breathed as her hands flew up to cover her mouth, “Sorry, I’m so sorry-” 

“Hey, hey,” Eddie laughed tiredly, reaching up to place his hands atop the tight fists Beverly formed against her chest. He pulled them down and squeezed her hands, silently telling her to relax them. She did. “It’s okay, Bev,” Eddie continued, smiling warmly and shaking his head as if to say it was no big deal at all. His expression shifted when he stared into her tear-filled eyes, growing even more sincere. “I’m glad you’re here.” 

Beverly chuckled again, the sounds coming out in forceful breaths that sounded more like cries as a new smile broke onto her face. More cautious of Eddie’s injuries, she shifted on the bed so she sat directly adjacent to Richie, but still facing Eddie. Beverly didn’t even have to turn when she felt the sudden presence of someone coming up behind her, knowing who it was. Richie stood when Ben reached the bed before pulling the man into a forceful hug. Holding him tight, Richie pat Ben on the back multiple times as they shifted their weight between their feet. The look they shared when the pair pulled apart was one Beverly knew all too well. She knew what they must’ve been thinking, their gazes locked on each other’s in a serious, wordless exchange. 

There was genuine admiration and pride in Ben’s eyes. 

By the time Richie stepped back and let Ben take his spot near the bed, hot tears fell down Ben’s cheeks. He leaned down, and grasped one of Eddie’s hands in his own before placing his other hand on Eddie’s shoulder. “It’s really good to see you, Eddie.” 

“You too, buddy,” Eddie half-smiled, an overwhelming rush of emotion overtaking his face that made it difficult to maintain his composure. He let Ben’s hand slip from his own as he reached up to rub his face in his hands. Richie and Ben switched places in an instant when Eddie began to weep. 

“Eds?” Richie asked. Beverly watched as the man reached out and gingerly grabbed Eddie’s wrists and gave them a small tug. Eddie let him bring them down to reveal his tear-stained face. But when the others looked down upon him, they found Eddie beaming. The room remained silent when Eddie’s gaze gradually shifted from one person to the next, more tears welling in his eyes with every passing face. Beverly could see Eddie’s expression morph as he took it all in, the relief that flooded his eyes giving her sight to the realization he’d just made. 

“We did it,” Eddie sniffed, his grin growing even wider as a wondrous laugh fell from his mouth, “We made it.” The look on his face was one of absolute and undeniable bliss, a rare comfort that none of the Losers had truly felt for over two decades. A look that could only be worn when all seven Losers were together. “We’re all here.”

Eddie was right. 

Every member of the Losers Club was united again for the first time in far too many years. 

Another laugh came from Eddie as he fell into the same fit as Beverly, the two of them laughing and crying and smiling and sobbing. Unable to stop, Eddie turned to face Richie and held out his hand. Richie grinned and took it without hesitation, keeping his other hand free to wipe the silent tears that slipped from the corners of his eyes. 

The remaining Losers, who’d slowly joined in on their fits of overjoyed laughter, followed suit. Beverly wrapped her arm around Richie’s shoulder, while opening her far hand towards Ben. He grasped it immediately and squeezed it tight. Mere seconds passed before Ben had his other hand interlocked with Mike’s, and Bill had a loose arm around both Mike and Stanley’s backs. Stanley was last to move, his intense stare never leaving Eddie’s as he reached out from Eddie’s other side and took the man’s hand in his own. 

In that moment, time came to a halt and seven Losers stood bound as one. 

Tied together by an unerasable and irrevocable love. 

Triumphant in the battles they fought. 

Unequivocally saved. 

Free at last. 

Beverly’s eyes fluttered shut as the rush of it all struck her deeply, her body filling with such an immense love that she made herself dizzy. Memories from the blood oath they’d made to Bill as children came flooding back into Beverly’s mind. A moment when their bonds were forged forever, lost to time. But this time it felt different, for it was a gesture of fulfillment rather than promise. A chance for them to look towards their future and beam rather than cower with fear. There were no more secrets between them, no hidden fears or locked away torments. Just an outpour of a fond devotion. 

It was euphoric. 

When she opened her eyes, Beverly caught sight of movement from behind Bill and Mike. She subtly shifted her gaze to spot Patty, who had her phone in a horizontal hold with one hand while tapping the screen with the other. The woman caught Beverly’s gaze and offered a half-smile, which Beverly gladly returned. Minutes passed before Bill finally moved. He took a step back, finding the nearest chair and pulling it up towards the end of Eddie’s bed. The others quietly followed suit and pulled up additional seating so that Eddie was nearly completely surrounded by his friends. Richie was the only one who remained where he was, sitting on the edge of Eddie’s bed with his back to the far wall. 

Beverly shot a content gaze at Ben, who offered her a relieved and loving smile in return. The way he looked at her always made her heart leap with happiness without fail. She reached over and interlocked their hands as she shifted her gaze back towards Eddie...who’d been watching them. Eddie’s smile broke a bit as an expression of pure relief and overwhelming joy washed over him. He struggled to hold his composure as his eyes locked with Beverly and told her a thousand different things all at once. 

Beverly saw them all. 

_I’m so, so happy, Bev_. 

_I’m so unbelievably happy you found someone like Ben_. 

_He’s what you deserve._

_He would never, ever hurt you._. 

Despite the silence between them, Eddie’s eyes glistened with both an elation and sorrow that Beverly felt herself resonate so strongly with. The stare she returned was one of sincere gratitude, the clashing emotions in her chest rising up and flowing outward through her body. She felt a happiness so intense it _hurt_ , but it was a good pain. 

She felt like she could truly breathe again. 

Beverly’s father was anything but. The wicked things he whispered to her, the vile acts he committed against her, the way he _violated_ her...it was slowly tearing her apart. And the worst part was that she never even realized how bad it’d gotten until she finally broke free. Before that fated summer, she had no one to turn to, nowhere to run. Trapped inside the very apartment where she was supposed to feel safe. 

She remembered the unparalleled dread that pooled in her stomach the day she got her first period. It wasn’t even the occurence that worried her, but rather probability of her father finding out. The aisle she grabbed her tampons from had never seemed so large before that day, its size daunting and overwhelming. 

That was the day Beverly met the Losers. 

They were just a few aisles over from her at the pharmacy, watching nervously as Eddie snatched medical supplies off the shelf and shoved them into his grasp. When Beverly asked why they needed all those things, it was Eddie who answered truthfully. He spoke without hesitation, telling Beverly of the kid outside who looked like someone killed him. Eddie, with Bill and Stanley flanking him, stared at Beverly with genuine concern in their eyes. 

It was so different than the stares she so often received at school. The ones that dug deep into her mind so forcefully that Beverly swore she could _hear_ them. But these three didn’t stare at her like that, whether they knew her reputation or not. Beverly couldn’t remember why she chose to help them that day, but she felt that their honesty and lack of judgement had much to do with it. 

Eddie showed a trust in Beverly despite having never spoken to her before, and that same trust never broke after that day. Beverly remembered coming home to her father that day, and how hard she tried to conceal the contents of her bag. But then he cornered her, leaning in close. 

_Hey Bevvy, whatcha got there?_

_Just some things._

_Like what?_

She remembered the fear that chilled her body until she felt numb as she watched her father reach into her bag and pull out the box. 

_Tell me you’re still my little girl._

_Yes, daddy_. 

Beverly couldn’t move, couldn’t breathe as she felt her father’s breath against her face when he leaned forward and _smelled_ her. A fire burst to light under his touch on her hair, setting it alight until it seared at Beverly’s head and made her shake. She wanted it all to _stop_ , and she thought that chopping away her hair would finally put an end to it. 

But she was wrong. 

It wasn’t until the day the blood came shooting out of her sink did Beverly feel safe again. She’d called the other Losers to her house after her father had left for the day, her tensed nerves dissipating when she found that the other kids could see the blood, too. They helped her clean it all away, every last drop until nothing remained. These kids, people she barely knew, had come to her aid without a moment’s hesitation...something she’d never seen before. 

That was the moment Beverly knew she could truly trust them. 

The Losers were Beverly’s escape, their company providing a refuge from her father. In some ways, they saved her from his grasp, finally giving her the assurance she needed to stand up for herself when he threatened her. 

Once the clown was gone and Beverly was living with a relative who moved to the opposite side of town to care for her, Beverly was free. It was an incredible, indescribable sensation to be so independent and confident and free and light. To not be weighed down by herself or anyone else. Her and Bill didn’t last long after the fight with It was over, and once apart, her eyes didn’t drift to another. By the time the Losers reached high school, Beverly was more focused on taking the time to learn how to properly care for herself in both a physical and mental sense that anything else. 

Something she didn’t know how to do when living with her father. 

But as Beverly grew older and the Losers parted ways, she forgot those independent parts of herself that so clearly defined who she was. As her memories of Derry, the clown, and the Losers all began to fade from her mind, however, so did the very strength she’d learned to conquer with the help of her friends. 

Then, Beverly fell into the same terrible cycle all over again. 

_No one else is gonna love you like me, you know that, right?_

Her husband was just like her father. 

_You’re nothing without me, you know that, right?!_

He rubbed her confidence down until there was nearly nothing left to spare, beat her, hurt her, verbally and physically abused her. And yet, somehow, Beverly stuck with it for all that time. It seemed so foolish now after her return to Derry and recollection of her old memories as a child in that town. But before the trip back, Beverly was caught in a heavy haze that so greatly shrouded her mind and blinded her without mercy. If she hadn’t returned to Derry, that clarity she re-obtained would have been lost forever into oblivion. 

Mike’s call saved her. 

The call brought back random, blurred glimpses here and there, and it wasn’t until Beverly set foot on Derry’s soil did she start to remember it all. It was in that moment Beverly remembered what _real_ love was, and how people were meant to show it to each other. That kind of pure, unadulterated love never truly left, even though Beverly had forgotten it was there. But it was that same love that finally gave her the strength she needed to fight back against her husband and leave him for good. 

The Losers club gave Beverly the courage to face not only her father, but her husband as well...and that was a debt she didn’t think she’d ever be able to repay. 

When leaving her husband, Beverly felt more _alive_ that she ever remembered feeling. The joyous sensation of freedom remained in her racing heart all the way to Derry, still present even as they slowly remembered the clown. If anything, that same sense of independence and freedom was what gave Beverly the strength to fight back against the clown down in the cavern. 

It trapped her in a stall, the same one from her youth. 

The same words were still scrawled on its walls, marking up the plain walls with such awful things written about both her and Richie. That’s when the pounding on the door began, its sounds ear-shattering, forceful, and terrifying. Beverly couldn’t see the faces of those who lurked outside the door, but she could hear their voices all the same. Their words cracked the walls with a wicked clarity that shook Beverly’s bones and made her hands shake. 

_You in there, you little shit? I can smell you!_

_You smell just like Lois Lane!_

_Slut!_

And then, it spoke in _his_ voice. 

_Bevvy, just open up the door for me, okay? Come to daddy, now. Are you still my little girl, Bevvy?_

_ARE YOU STILL MY LITTLE GIRL?_

Beverly felt a _rage_ boil inside her a the sound of those words in a perfect mimic of her father’s voice. She remembered the first time she stood up to him, the day the clown kidnapped her and took her to the cistern. She’d smashed the tank cover of the toilet upon his head, not flinching at the cracked sound as jagged shards went flying in every direction. Her father landed in a pool of blood, unconscious. 

But then there was too much blood, so much she couldn’t breathe. It got into her eyes, her nose, her mouth...it seared down her throat. 

_ARE YOU STILL MY LITTLE GIRL, BEVVY?_

Not anymore. 

Not ever again. 

With a single, hard kick to the bathroom stall, Beverly freed herself from the unseen bounds that’d held her down for so long. She felt so light, her new clarity empowering her and giving her the strength to pull Ben out of the dirt below her with a single hand. 

Ben. 

January embers. 

After everything that happened since their return to Derry, it’d been him the entire time. It wasn’t until they laid on the cold, hard stone of the cavern did Beverly finally recall the memory of how Ben saved her from the Deadlights with a kiss. How, even after the fight with the clown was over, Ben watched her from afar. 

But Beverly...she didn’t know what she wanted. 

She waited, choosing to focus on overcoming her own trauma and learning how to care for herself in ways she didn’t know how before. She needed time to be able to look at herself in the mirror and no longer see the image of her father towering over her from behind. It’d taken years to finally achieve those endeavors, with the Losers just entering their middle years of high school as she did. 

And after that time passed, Beverly still remembered the poem Ben wrote for her when they’d first met. She watched him sometimes with narrowed eyes, trying so hard to see into his mind for just the slightest moment. But Beverly saw nothing that ever resembled the same way he looked at her when they were twelve. His expression had changed over the years, becoming more reserved yet still just as observant. Beverly enjoyed watching him from across the classroom, but felt this strange, empty feeling while doing so. 

To Beverly, it seemed that what Ben felt for her when they were younger had passed. 

So she said nothing, unknowing of the fact that Ben still _did_ look at her the same way as he had before. The truth was, he never stopped...he only just got better at concealing his true feelings in fear of rejection. Shadows that loomed in his mind, left there by the clown all those years prior, still plagued his thoughts with feelings of inferiority and worthlessness. Notions that tricked him into believing he couldn’t be loved. 

Ben told her so himself one night when neither of them could find sleep. 

And Beverly...she couldn’t remember why she waited or what stopped her. It was something in her head, like a quiet voice with a wordless whisper, convincing her that Ben no longer felt the same way as he did before. She didn’t know who the voice belonged to, or where it came from...but after hearing what Ben and Richie said about their _own_ mental tormentors, Beverly could only assume the worst. 

So when graduation finally came, Ben and Beverly parted ways for school. Their silent dance of shifting gazes and stares remaining nothing more than a language of averted eyes. An unspoken confession that glistened in their faces when the other wasn’t looking. 

A love lost with time until it was finally recovered once again. 

_January embers?_

What had she been waiting for?

_My heart burns there, too._

What was she so _afraid_ of? 

Beverly was never aware of the silent presence that plagued her mind until she’d been ripped free from its grasp. It’d been feeding off of her for so long, stripping away the parts of her memories that so greatly shaped her into the strong person she truly was. She felt it slip away as she pulled Ben and herself out of the fray, taking with them nothing but a newfound certainty they couldn’t seem to grasp as kids. 

Beverly was finally free to love Ben, a man whose love for her was wholesome and absolute. 

But then everything happened so fast…

...Eddie. 

_Eddie._

He almost died after the clown ripped a hole right through his body. 

Beverly, as much as it pained her to admit it, genuinely _believed_ he was dead when they first returned to him in the cavern. Then, after surviving the trip to _two_ hospitals and undergoing so many operations...Eddie slept for so long, Beverly started to lose hope deep down in her heart, though she never showed it. 

And Richie...oh, Rich. 

He went through so much torment. It slowly _killed_ Beverly to watch all of it unfold before her eyes. Then, just when Beverly thought they’d hit her weakest point, Richie told them all his secret. One that he’d been hiding for practically as long as Beverly knew him. 

Nearly thirty years. 

It was a shock at first, but it all slowly faded to pity as time passed and the hopes of Eddie ever waking grew slimmer with every hour. It wasn’t fair, not for either of them. Richie and Eddie deserved so much better than what they got...they didn’t make it out so lucky as the others. Richie’s words from the night he confessed still haunted Beverly to this day. 

_Ben, you will NEVER understand what it’s like because you got to have your goddamn happy ending with Beverly!_

_Richie what does that have to do with this?_

_Because you didn’t have to watch the love of your fucking life nearly die in your arms!_

Beverly and Ben both made it out of the cavern, alive and unscathed. And they were so, so happy together. Yet, at the same time, feeling such joy at Ben’s side had slowly begun to tear Beverly apart. She felt such intense waves of guilt whenever her thoughts drifted back to Richie, who was still living with the clown’s torment even though It was long dead. It killed her inside. But then, when nearly all hope had dwindled down the endless trench of Beverly’s mind, Eddie woke up. 

And now, here they sat, Eddie awake and Richie at his side. Two best friends who loved each other in more ways than one. Watching them from a short distance, Beverly knew they’d both be alright and could finally grasp the previously unattainable ending they both so greatly deserved. Beverly stared back at Eddie, still locked in an intense stare, as she peered into the eyes of the man who became even more than a brother to her, and always protected her more than her father ever did. 

She remembered the days back in the Clubhouse, when it was just her and Eddie. They’d screamed for hours, yelling at the top of their lungs about how much they _hated_ their parents. It was an outlet they both needed, even with Beverly’s father now out of her life. The first few months following the move, it was like his presence still haunted Beverly wherever she went. 

Eddie understood what that was like, he lived with it even longer than her. 

His mother and her father weren’t so different in some ways, and having someone to talk to about it, somehow how genuinely _understood_ what the other was saying? It helped Beverly with her trauma in more ways than she would’ve imagined. Their talks would start softly at first, with nothing more than a short greeting consisting of the same phrases every time. 

_How are you holding up, honey?_

_Just fine, sunshine._

It was almost like a secret code. Whenever one of them spoke the question when alone, the other would know how to respond and that the other needed to talk. 

Beverly remembered Eddie’s quiet days...and all the times he got scolded for not taking his medications, sneaking out past curfew, or even just eating foods he wasn’t supposed to. The louder days, when Eddie came in shrieking and yelling in frustration about his mother, were just the same. Beverly would listen intently, throw in some complaints as Eddie spoke, and did something to cheer him up. Most of the time, it was through head-to-head paddle-ball competitions. 

And then there were the days someone would come after Beverly at school, or even just look at her the wrong way. Within minutes, Eddie would be placed between her and the perpetrator, fuming with anger as he put his motormouth to use and yelled them off the property. Beverly knew how much Eddie hated to see her so hurt, even after living away from her father for so long. He wanted to make her feel happy “because she deserved it.” 

The notion never changed or faded, either, even after all those years apart. Beverly still could hear Eddie’s voice in her mind as she envisioned their secret exchange at the restaurant in Derry. Eddie cornered her after spotting the bruises lacing her arms that nobody else saw. When there was something wrong, Eddie always seemed to know. 

_Bev…_

_It’s nothing._

_Don’t. Don’t lie to me, Beverly. Did your husband do this to you?_

_It won’t happen again, I promise_. 

_How can you be sure?_

_He...did this after I got the call from Mike, and…I left him._

_...For good?_

_Yes._

_...That’s good, Bev, I’m so sorry this happened to you._

_It’s okay, thank you Eddie._

It was painfully ironic how much Eddie cared about everyone else's well-being while not looking out for his own at the same time. The scars of Eddie’s trauma weren’t physical like Beverly’s, making it almost impossible to see. It didn’t help that he hid it all so well underneath that outspoken mind and loud voice. Eddie was the one who gave his life to protect his friends, and the one who gave them the idea that eventually led to the clown’s impending demise. He helped save them all, and in doing so, he gave Beverly the life she had now. 

Beverly held her gaze towards Eddie with such adoration, her heart fluttering as she saw the pure joy he felt for both her and Ben. Exhaling, Beverly adjusted her expression to mirror her own thoughts, meaning to tell him everything she wanted him to know and more. 

_I love you with all my heart, Eddie_. 

_I want you to know how proud I am of you, and that I would never think of you or Richie any differently at all._

_You’re still just like the boy who became my brother, the young kid who protected me and made me feel understood._

_You deserve all the happiness in the world, sweetheart._

_Thank you for giving me the same._

Eddie caught the change in Beverly’s expression almost immediately, his eyes narrowing the slightest bit as he studied Beverly’s face in great detail. His mouth fell slightly open as he read the words pouring out of her eyes, tears welling once more. He nodded, a bittersweet smile appearing on his face. Outstretching a hand, Beverly reached up past Richie and gently caressed the side of Eddie’s face. The tip of her thumb ghosted over the scar from Bowers’ knife, drawing her attention. It was almost completely healed and nothing more than a thin, fading line across his cheek. Beverly offered a nurturing smile before she spoke. “How are you holding up, honey?”

A wide smile broke onto Eddie’s face as he recognized their shared anecdote, bringing a hand up to rest atop of Beverly’s. His eyes gleamed with the same elation Beverly still felt surging through her body. “Just fine, sunshine,” Eddie replied, chuckling, “ _More_ than fine.” 

Beverly smiled in return. She could see the same kid in those eyes as Eddie answered, staring at her with the same loyal and supportive expression he so often offered her. But there was something else there, too. A subtle glisten that told of the hopeful spark that surely ignited in Eddie’s heart. Beverly felt it too, relishing in the sensation of knowing that they’d both faced their demons and finally defeated them. 

Free. 

Finally, free. 

“We’re gonna be okay now, you and me,” Beverly whispered as a steady stream of tears rolled down her face. She left them untouched, making sure to never break her stare with Eddie. Eddie blinked at the words, more aware of the significant weight they carried than the other Losers. It was a phrase they’d both been waiting to hear for almost their entire lives, just those few simple words that meant everything. Nodding with acceptance, tears spilled down Eddie’s face as he finally broke his stare with Beverly. 

Slowly, as if time held no reign over them, Eddie turned back towards Richie and offered him the best smile he could between his tears. Richie smirked back as he extended his reach and took Eddie’s hand in both of his own. Then, Eddie gazed into Richie’s eyes the exact same way Beverly found herself staring at Ben. “We’re gonna be okay,” Eddie repeated the words with a whisper. 

Beverly and Eddie both found their loves, each one right by their sides from the very start…

...And they were so, so beyond ready to finally feel what it was like to be _free_. 

They were more than ready to leave the ghosts of their pasts behind them and to never, ever look back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Growing Pains - Maria Mena 
> 
> No one will tell you 'bout the limit  
> They put on how long you can grieve  
> No one will warn you when you're winning  
> How heavy a lost love can be  
> They do not tell you 'bout the friendships  
> You'll lose once the lights are dimmed down  
> How humble you'll feel about your past bliss  
> Once the tables have turned 'round
> 
> But I wanna tell you I got through  
> The hardest of times on my own  
> I made some mistakes, I made a few  
> But I learned that I am strong
> 
> And just because it hurts  
> Doesn't mean it isn't worth it  
> And even if it stings, mmm  
> It's just a temporary thing  
> And no one said that changing  
> Won't cost you love, won't make you cry  
> But it will all make sense, mmm  
> When the growing pains subside
> 
> Nothing can shield you from the silence  
> Nights spent on his side of the bed  
> Praying for help to please stop crying  
> My life just got turned on its head  
> They failed to explain how complex love is  
> Like why I mostly miss him as a friend  
> Or how big of a blow is for my ego  
> That she might be better for him
> 
> But I wanna tell you I got through  
> The hardest of times on my own  
> I made some mistakes, I made a few  
> But I learned that I am strong
> 
> And just because it hurts  
> Doesn't mean it isn't worth it  
> And even if it stings, mmm  
> It's just a temporary thing  
> And no one said that changing  
> Won't cost you love, won't make you cry  
> But it will all make sense, mmm  
> When the growing pains subside


	38. I Choose

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: HOMOPHOBIC SLUR (ONE), INTERNALIZED HOMOPHOBIA, MENTION OF SUICIDAL THOUGHTS

_How are you holding up, honey?_. 

Christ, it was like Eddie’s entire life leading up to this point had been the real dream. His memories felt blurred and trying to access them was comparable to peering through fogged-up glass on a rainy day. He remembered his life before returning to Derry, when he faced the blinding fear in his heart through clashes with the clown, the leper, his mother...

_Just fine, sunshine_. 

...Eddie could still _feel_ the instinctual dread rising in his chest when images of them flashed across his mind. But the feeling was tapered now, weaker than it’d ever been before. Something else, a sensation much stronger and more resolute, slowly crept into his body and fleshed out the poisoning thoughts until they dissolved into nothing. 

_We’re gonna be okay now, you and me._

The dream he found himself trapped in was the gateway to a world unlike any other Eddie had ever had the privilege of witnessing. A world in which there was no clown, no bounds, no lies…

...No shame. 

_We’re gonna be okay_. 

If only he’d known that his path to salvation was always there. That he just hadn’t ventured quite far enough to ever reach it. It felt unattainable for so many years, until finally, Eddie no longer recalled what he’d been searching for in the first place. He let himself slip away, drifting into the expanding void in his head until nothing remained of Derry, the Losers, or Richie. 

The clown buried it all away.

_We did it._

But they persevered, fighting with every ounce of strength that remained until the clown finally succumbed to their unrelenting attacks. The others tore It’s mind apart, using its own strength against him until he fragmented into nothing but dust. 

They won. 

They endured, Eddie more so than anyone. He charged into the battle for this life head-first and never held back against the endless onslaught of the plagued, diseased demons that swarmed him from all sides. The creatures whispered things to him, uttering words of deceit as if they held truth. 

_We made it._

Yes, the things he’d seen during that fight were all just personified figments of his thoughts. But to Eddie, his time spent trapped inside his own mind granted him the second chance he so rightfully deserved to learn what he failed to see all those years. A chance to uncover a clarity so vivid and true that Eddie’s return to reality felt like true wakefulness for the first time in his life. 

His instincts told him he should fear the sensation...and maybe he did at first. But with his wake, Eddie entered a realm where he could sincerely _see_ himself for who he was. He was a man who loved his friends more than anything else, a man who could finally pride himself in the things that terrified him so much as a child. To see that same pride in all the other Losers’ faces was the greatest and most precious gift he’d ever receive. After wandering aimlessly for so long, Eddie finally found a place where he and his friends could bask in the unknown wonders of fulfillment and peace of mind. 

_We’re all here._

It was magnificent. 

An hour passed before any of the Losers moved from their seats that still encircled Eddie’s bed in a tight curve. A near-constant flow of laughter bounced around the room as they joked and bantered, their giddy snickers almost perfectly matching those they’d made as kids. The sounds were like a life-force, providing Eddie with an ever-growing strength that poured outwards from his chest. It was a power so robust that the darkened thoughts attempting to penetrate his mind where blown to irreparable shreds. The darkness would never leave him alone, Eddie knew that, but to have his friends at his side gave him the only weapon he needed to hold the entity back. They were stronger together, they always had been. 

And now, they always will be. 

Mike was the first to stand once he realized how late it was. Visiting hours were nearly over, and they all still had to take their things to the hotel, which was the same one from their last stay. The others followed suit as they stood to grab their things and bundle up their jackets and coats. Goodbyes were about to be said when a flash of red passed through the doorway and into the room. 

“Oh!” Joey gasped pleasantly, beaming at the familiar faces she hadn’t seen in months. A chuckle fell from her lips when she was welcomed with equally warm expressions and even a few hugs in return. Once the others settled down once again, they parted ways so Joey could reach Eddie’s bed. “Hey, Eddie,” The doctor grinned, hands shoved into the pockets of her white coat, “I have something for you.” 

Eddie frowned, tilting his head as he stared at Joey in confusion. His perplexed expression quickly morphed to one of pure glee when the woman pulled her hand out of her pocket and offered him a plastic-sealed stack of plain crackers. “Oh, FUCK yes!” Eddie called out in relief as he extended a hand. 

He was so fucking hungry. 

Joey snickered at how quickly Eddie snatched the pack from her grasp before tearing into it and shoving an entire cracker into his mouth whole. He sighed heavily and let his eyes fall shut as he chewed, not even caring about the others watching him with amused faces. 

Oh my god, this was the best cracker he’d ever tasted. 

Hands down. 

As Eddie went to shove another cracker into his mouth, a hand snatched his wrist and held it in place. His head shot back towards the side of the bed where he was met with a firm stare. “Pace yourself, or it’ll just come back up,” Joey warned, a warm kindness still lingering in her expression despite her sincere advice, “Drink water between each one.” 

Eddie sighed with the impatient drone of a child, drawing a muffled chuckle from Richie. He didn’t even notice the bag of crackers slip from his hand until it was too late. Turning, Eddie found Richie smirking beside him, holding up the bag of crackers in one hand and Eddie’s water cup from the nightstand. Richie extended the hand holding the water, his smirk growing into a smile. “Drink up, Spaghetti Man.” 

Richie chuckled again when Eddie rolled his eyes. His hunger quickly got the best of him, though, and Eddie found himself obliging to Richie’s request within seconds. Joey watched for another few minutes as the others finished bundling up and collecting their things. They spoke to Joey for the time that followed, but Eddie didn’t pay much attention to what they were saying. 

His attention was far too focused on Richie. 

Eddie seethed when Richie stared back at him with that same smug expression whenever Eddie tried to sneak in another cracker before drinking some water. Richie would yank the bag away every time Eddie’s hand so much as _grazed_ its edges, holding it out of reach until Eddie groaned and drank a few more sips of water. Eddie’s hunger was far from sated by the time he’d finished the entire stack, but it was enough to relieve the pangs of pain from his previously empty stomach. 

“-probably after a while, but we’ll have to see.” 

Tuning back in to the others’ conversation, Eddie eyed the Losers as they stood in a half-circle around Joey. As if on cue, she turned to look back at Eddie and threw him an approving smile upon seeing the empty wrapper the crackers had been in. “I can update you on the rest tomorrow,” She said, flicking her gaze towards the others, “But visiting hours are just about up, and you’re probably all exhausted from your trips here.” 

When Eddie spotted Richie making to stand and grab his things, Eddie latched his hand around Richie’s wrist and pulled him back. “Wait, Rich,” Eddie said quietly as the man turned back towards him, “Can you stay?” 

“I, uh-” Richie stuttered, tossing an unsure glance at Joey, who shook her head. 

“Sorry Eddie,” Joey said as she nodded for Richie to grab his things, “Strict no visitors after hours policy. Besides, you need some good rest, you’ve had a pretty big day.” 

Eddie didn’t feel tired, though. He even took a short nap with Richie earlier that evening. But then again...he _did_ just wake up from a three-month coma that should’ve left him as good as dead, divorced his wife, confessed his love for his childhood best friend, and reunited with the Loser’s Club, one of whom he’d thought to be dead. 

Alright, maybe she had a point. 

“Don’t worry,” Beverly said softly from the end of Eddie’s bed, “We’ll be back first thing, okay?” 

Nodding, Eddie slumped back into his bed and sighed as the others made their way towards the door. The group slowly left the room in succession, Eddie closely watching each of them as they slipped around the corner. He knew this wasn’t a dream, yet he still had that same, fearful fleeting sensation that tugged at his chest and told him it wasn’t real. 

“Goodnight, Eddie.”

“Get some rest!”

“Sleep well.” 

“See you soon, Eddie!”

Richie was the last of the Losers to leave. He turned back to Eddie once he’d gathered his things and quickly tossed on a jacket. “Night, Eddie,” He whispered so sweetly under his breath, leaning in and pressing his lips to Eddie’s for the briefest second. “I love you.” 

Eddie sighed again, the contact far too short. Richie was so _warm_ , and all he wanted to do was wrap himself around him and never let go again. Yet, at the same time, Eddie felt his heart melt at Richie’s words as a pleasant rush swept over his body. 

Richie loved him.

“I love you, too,” Eddie said back, smiling to himself when Richie turned and winked at him over his shoulder. He stared at the door long after the man passed through it, nearly forgetting that Joey was still there until she moved in the corner of his eye. 

Joey stared back at Eddie with wide, questioning eyes. Her eyebrows were raised and her head slightly tilted, as if she were silently asking Eddie to confirm what she’d just witnessed. She smiled, however, when her question was answered by the blush that appeared on Eddie’s cheeks. “You know,” Joey said, stepping forward so that she leaned on the edge of Eddie’s bed with the back of her thighs. She casually crossed her arms across her chest. “That explains a _lot_.” 

Eddie chuckled, letting his head fall a bit. Joey laughed with him, their amused voices intermixing before a short silence fell upon them. 

“Wanna know a secret?” Joey asked, quirking her brow as she shoved her hands back into her coat pockets. 

“What?” Eddie asked, perplexed. 

“When you first got here, after I met Richie…” Joey started, her eyes falling towards the sheets on Eddie’s bed as she recalled the memory. “...I thought you two were already together.” 

The words struck Eddie like a train as he stared back at her in stunned silence. Had it always been there, that exceedingly close friendship that often came off as something more? Or was it something that Eddie’s near-death experience brought out in Richie? Eddie himself had no clue, for he wasn’t even sure of his own feelings until the dream. “You did?” Eddie managed to ask. 

A small smile appeared on Joey’s face. “Yeah, I did,” She admitted with a quick nod, “Richie was so distraught over you, he never left your side. I’d walk by sometimes and he’d just be holding your hand and staring at you like you meant _everything_ to him. Of course the others care about you too, but...they never looked at you the way Richie did.”

Eddie remained silent. 

“Then I found out you were married to someone else, and I realized I was mistaken,” Joey said with a frown. She paused, thinking back to the events as they laid out in her head. “But _then_ that whole thing happened with your wife this morning, and I was confused again...I guess I wasn’t that far off, was I?” 

“No, guess not,” Eddie chuckled softly with a shrug of his shoulders, “Your guess was as good as mine.” 

They chuckled. 

“Well, for what it’s worth, I’m happy for you,” Joey shared warmly, her voice just louder than a whisper. Her eyes glistened as she spoke, filled with a sense of relief and pride. She rode with them from start to finish, and never gave up on Eddie despite how morbid things became. 

Eddie would never forget that. 

“He really, really loves you, Eddie,” Joey added as she pushed her weight back onto her feet to stand completely upright. “You’re really lucky.” 

Yeah, he sure was. 

In more ways than Joey would ever know. 

“I know,” Eddie smiled, huffing a shocked laugh as he shook his head from side-to-side. He still wasn’t over hearing the words out loud, and he wasn’t sure he ever would be.

Richie loved him. 

“Get some sleep now, yeah?” Joey asked as she strode back towards the door. She held one hand on the metal doorknob and the other above the lightswitch. With a flick of her wrist, the light above Eddie flicked off, the only light filling the room from the dimmed hallway lights through the closing glass window of the door. 

Then, Eddie was alone. 

And he hated it. 

It was like toppling a barricade inside his mind, unleashing all the creatures he’d trapped with the help of the Loser’s presence beside him. But now, alone in this darkness, there was nobody else here to help fend off their damaging, never-ending onslaught. He did his best to fight off what he could, but eventually succumbed to the dragging fatigue that plagued his body with a familiar twinge of fear. 

When Eddie finally did find sleep, it didn’t last for long. 

He woke with a start just a few hours later. 

Eddie shot up in bed, panting and choking. He coughed with a ragged, dry sound that stung in the back of his throat. His surroundings slowly came into vision around him as he remembered where he was and why. 

Calm down, Eddie. 

Just a dream.

Not real. 

Beads of sweat dripped down Eddie’s forehead as he reached forward to clutch his abdomen. Waves of pain struck him right in his center, and he was forced to take a few long, deep breaths to ease the aches. The adrenaline that now pulsed through his veins was far too energizing, and Eddie knew almost immediately that any hopes of falling back asleep anytime soon were void. 

With slow, tired motions, Eddie reached over towards his nightstand and detached his new phone from its charger. He unlocked it, wincing at the brightness of the screen that shone so brightly against the blackness of the room. His eyes adjusted quickly, however, as he scrolled down his short list of contacts and tapped one name in particular. 

The phone began to ring as Eddie’s front-facing camera switched on and revealed a mirror-image of himself. Even through the dull lighting from the hall, Eddie jerked back in surprise at his appearance. Yes, they were _definitely_ cutting his hair in the morning... without question. Nearly ten rings sounded before the other line finally connected. Eddie stared in silence as Richie’s camera adjusted to the dark space where he laid. He couldn’t make out his face, only the silhouette of broad shoulders and messy hair against an almost equally-dark surface. 

_“Eds?”_ The sound of Richie’s voice came through on the speakers, a clear panic rising in his tone as he spoke quickly, _“Did something happen? Are you alright-”_

Shit. 

Of course Richie would think something was wrong. 

“Yeah, sorry,” Eddie answered quickly, “I’m fine.” 

_“What time is it, Eds?”_ Richie asked. Eddie watched his dark figure shift on the screen before a bright golden light suddenly flooded the room. Phone still aimed at the lamp he’d flipped on, Richie leaned over and snatched his glasses from the side table and threw them on. Eddie couldn’t help but smirk at his ruffled hair and lopsided glasses. 

“A little past two,” Eddie replied with a sigh, only now registering the nickname Richie had been using. “And stop calling me Eds, fucknut. You did that all day.” 

Richie chuckled tiredly, still waking up. _“I think I’m allowed to call you whatever the fuck I want after being woken up at this ungodly hour.”_

Eddie’s eyes fell as he said nothing. Maybe he shouldn't have called Richie, he didn’t even want to talk about the dream anyways, so why was he even calling? Eddie kicked himself, knowing that all he really wanted was for Richie to be beside him again. 

_“Eddie?”_ Richie asked, frowning, _“Hey, I was just joking, man. What’s wrong?”_

Another sigh fell from Eddie’s mouth. “Can’t sleep,” He muttered, rubbing a hand over his face, “Nightmare.” 

A pause. 

_“You okay?”_ Richie asked hesitantly.

“Yeah, I guess,” Eddie replied, his voice empty and distant as his stomach twisted with the lie he just told. 

_”Wanna talk about it?”_ Richie added, visibly dissatisfied with Eddie’s half-hearted answer. 

“Not really,” Eddie sighed. He certainly didn’t feel okay, not after what he’d just faced in that dream. But talking about it felt like it would just make it hurt even more. A shiver ran down his back at the thought of replaying the scene in his head. 

Another few moments of silence fell between them before Richie’s expression softened. _”You know,”_ He said lightly, _”Coming from someone who never, ever talked about how he felt with his friends for nearly all his life...I gotta tell you, it really helps.”_

Eddie thought back to what Richie endured while he was caught in his listless sleep. He remembered the words that sliced through his heart like a sword on the night Richie finally let it all spill out. For Richie to face so much torment within the isolation of his own mind, it was something Eddie could understand. They both laid trapped on separate planes before Eddie woke, watching their loved one slip through this fingers as they watched on helplessly, unable to move or even breathe. 

And if Eddie didn’t open up to Richie now, then what the hell did he learn from all of this? 

Take the goddamn leap, Eddie. 

Take a _risk_. 

“Alright, fine,” Eddie said under his breath, speaking again when Richie shot him an expectant look through the screen. “We were in the cavern, just us. My wound was open again, and I was bleeding so much...you were there, trying so hard to stop it…”

Eddie paused, forcing himself to regain his composure before moving on. 

“But I knew I was dying,” Eddie continued with the same empty voice. His eyes became unfocused as he watched the scene replay in his head, making it seem like he was staring at nothing. “I only had a few minutes left and I wanted to tell you how I felt, just three simple words. But when I opened my mouth? All that came out was more blood.” 

Richie frowned with concern but said nothing. 

“It started as a trickle,” Eddie explained with a pained look in his eyes, “But every time I tried to speak, more blood came gushing out. There was so much of it by the end that I couldn’t breathe...and I woke up choking…” 

Richie was silent for a long time. So long, in fact, that Eddie started to think he’d lost his connection with him and the screen had froze. But just as Eddie went to hang up to try and call back, Richie shifted on the couch. _“I’m sorry, Eddie,”_ He nearly whispered, so quiet Eddie almost missed it, _“That sounds like shit.”_

“Yeah, it was.” 

_“But it’s okay,”_ Richie added, bringing his phone camera a bit closer to his face so he could better see the screen. Eddie could see the distressed expression on his face despite his attempts to mask it. _“It’s just like you said, right? We’re gonna be okay now.”_

Beverly’s words played again in Eddie’s mind as the image of her kind and warming smile appeared in his head. Eddie genuinely believed her words, but he couldn’t ignore the sinking feeling in his stomach whenever he thought about them too deeply. To know that one would be alright from now on suggests that they were never alright before that very moment. And for Eddie? That felt far too close to home. 

“Rich?” 

_“Yeah?”_

“Richie, I’m so sorry,” Eddie squeezed out, overcome with the familiar sensation of his throat closing up. Waves of heat ran down his body in sharp flashes, making him dizzy with anxiety. His immense swell of emotions were so sudden and strong that Eddie didn’t know what to do with it.

_“Hey, hey,”_ Richie breathed, sitting up a bit on the couch. He positioned himself so that Eddie could better see his face under the dim light of the lamp beside him. _“Why are you apologizing? You have nothing to be sorry for.”_

Oh, but he did...

...Whether it was out of his control or not. 

“We lost so much time, Rich. I just wish I hadn’t forgotten, I could’ve figured it all out so much sooner,” Eddie recalled dismally, the growing agony in his voice apparent. 

_“Me too, Eddie.”_

“I was scared,” Eddie confessed, the words slipping off his tongue with a sting, “Ever since I was a kid, even _before_ the clown. I was always just so _afraid_.” 

Another pause. 

_”Tell me what you’re afraid of,”_ Richie uttered firmly. It wasn’t a command so much as a way of telling Eddie what he knew would be best for him to do. Heart pounding at an ever-increasing rate, Eddie grew anxious as he purposefully recalled the memories he’d tried so hard to wipe clean from his thoughts. The ones he so desperately wanted to repress. But Richie wanted him to talk about it, he told Eddie it would help. 

So Eddie pushed even deeper to remember, for Richie’s sake. 

“I…I never had the heart to tell you all those things my mother said about you,” He admitted under his breath. It was suddenly a hundred times more difficult to look Richie in the eyes through his screen. The words in his head were like a lethal poison, already spreading to the further tendrils of Eddie’s being before he even spoke them aloud. “She hated when we played together. She wanted me to stay away from you, and I hated her for it.” 

_”What ar-”_

“Those names the other kids called you at school? She called you them, too,” Eddie said without giving Richie a chance to speak, his voice cracking as he recalled the dark truths of his childhood. “When I was a kid, I...didn’t understand. I couldn’t comprehend why I felt the way I did or what those feelings even were. All I remember was how _furious_ I got when she talked about you like that, because...she didn’t know it, but...when she called you those things? She was calling me the same thing.” 

_And what did I tell you about that Tozier boy, Eddie? You should stay away from him, he’s one of those fairies._

“I could hear her voice in my dream, it was so damn loud inside my head,” Eddie uttered as he shivered at the awful memory. “I couldn’t block it out no matter how hard I tried, but…”

Eddie trailed off, his eyes unfocusing once again. He found himself drifting too far into the memory, the presence of the voice creeping back into his head with sharpened claws. The sound of Richie’s voice pulled him back, though, and kept the creatures of the darkness at bay. 

_”Eddie,”_ Richie said worriedly, his voice an octave higher than what it was before. _”Eddie?”_

“Sorry,” Eddie breathed heavily, shaking his head and ridding his mind of the plaguing memories. “But...hearing her voice again...it resurfaced everything I used to feel as a kid. Things I felt for you that I never understood until now.” 

The expression of Richie’s face grew more serious than Eddie had ever seen it, so much that it almost scared him. Nevertheless, he continued. 

“Then the clown showed up and he made me believe that the way I felt about another boy was wrong...twist...dirty...sick,” Eddie forced out, stuttering over his final few words. Every one struck a fresh wound to Eddie’s heart as he uttered them aloud. Richie opened his mouth to speak but Eddie beat him to it, “Remember the leper?” 

_How about a blowjob, Eddie? I’ll do it for a dime, or maybe just a nickel?_

Richie closed his mouth and nodded. 

_Hell, I’ll even do it for free!_

Eddie sucked in a deep breath and exhaled. “I never told anyone what really happened, what It tried to do to me. The leper didn’t just chase me, or attack me, it…”

Just say it, Eddie. 

“...It offered to blow me for a dime, then for free. I tried to fight it, but it got ahold of me first. It grabbed me, cornered me, and tried to shove its tongue down my throat. It screamed at me, telling me how it was gonna… _infect_ me if I let it touch me…”

_I told you about my friend in New York, the one who got AIDS._

_“Eddie…”_ Richie started, his composure breaking for the quickest moment. His voice had a newfound clarity to it, which only told Eddie that he understood exactly what Eddie was trying to say. Eddie’s stomach twisted at the thought, not ready to hear what Richie had to say about it...so he kept talking.

“But I’m not scared, Rich,” Eddie assured with a new confidence in his tone, “My mother can’t control me anymore, and the leper...I fought back this time. I made it so small in my hands I almost beat It right then and there.” 

A hand shot up on Eddie’s screen, and he watched in silence as Richie slid his glasses off and wiped his eyes with a fist. Eddie chose not to acknowledge it, unsure if it was out of empathy or dread. _“I told you, Eds,”_ Richie finally exhaled. His glasses were still off of his face, and the man had to squint a bit to make out Eddie’s face on his phone screen. _“You’re braver than you think, you always have been.”_

Eddie sucked in a sharp breath at those words. 

The same words Richie spoke to him down in the cistern, the same words that gave Eddie the courage and drive he needed to face the clown head-on and save Richie’s life. Eddie smiled as a warm rush burst forth from his chest. 

“I don’t want to live the rest of my life afraid, Richie,” Eddie breathed with a desperate hold on his lucidity, recalling the words he’d spoken to the man while in the coma. There was so much pain in his voice the first time he’d said them aloud. A pain that tore at his heart and never let him forget how he’d figured it all out far too late. But this time, things were different. Richie could see him, hear him. This was real. “Any risk is worth it as long as I have you with me.” 

What little composure Richie had left vanished in an instant. He started to cry, bringing a hand up to cover his mouth in an attempt to stifle the noises. Eddie panics at first, feeling so helpless as he watched Richie sob through the screen of his phone. They were a mere ten-minute drive apart, but Eddie had never felt farther away than he did in that moment. It wasn’t until Richie’s hand fell to reveal a smile could Eddie finally relax back into his bed. Richie huffed a laugh between his sniffs, _“I’ve waited so long to hear you say that, Eddie. I’m so fucking proud of you.”_

A relieved smile broke out on Eddie’s face, another large swell of emotion overtaking his senses and making his heart race. He found himself struggling to hold back his own tears as he watched Richie cry through the phone, enraptured with the man’s overwhelming joy. 

_“Eddie, my love,”_ Richie smiled despite the tears that still rolled down his cheeks. Hearing that name made Eddie’s heart nearly burst from his chest. _“I really fucking hate you right now, I just want you to know that. Waking me up in the middle of the night and making me sob like a bitch? Seriously, who do you think you are?”_

Eddie laughed, a few tears escaping his eyes as he thought back to their childhood banter. They always tried to stay mad at each other after they fought, but neither of them could ever stay mad for too long...and Richie was always the first to crack without fail. “The person you can’t stay mad at for more than five minutes,” Eddie teased. 

An annoyed but light-hearted sigh fell from Richie’s lips as he almost did Stanley justice with a overly-dramatic eye-roll. He stared right at Eddie through the camera while the man smirked back at him. A muffled _“fuck you”_ from Richie came through the speaker moments later, which only sent Eddie into another short fit of chuckles. A switch seemed to flip in Richie’s mind in that moment, as if the man knew that he’d reached his limit on light-hearted jokes and should return to the more serious matters. 

Richie’s expression softened at the sound of Eddie’s laugh as he stared at him with genuine eyes. Within seconds, the warm look on his face shifted to one of a serious and devoted love. He let out a deep sigh as he gazed upon Eddie’s face, seeming to take in every detail before speaking again. _“I’m...so sorry, Eddie,”_ Richie finally said, his voice breaking again as he spoke, _“Everything you went through, you didn’t deserve any of that.”_

Eddie sighed with a bittersweet pain, well-aware that he could never go back and fix the past. That time was lost forever. And yet, he found himself hopeful for a future on a path that would lead him to a bliss he never thought was possible. “Love you, Rich,” Eddie said, half-smiling. 

_“I love you too, Eddie,”_ Richie replied as he reached up to wipe his face again. He finally scooped up his glasses, only to grimace when he spotted the tear streaks lining the inner side of both lenses. With a sigh and quick scrub of his shirt, Richie placed them back on his face and blinked a few times as his vision came back to focus. He stared at Eddie for a bit, as if contemplating whether to say something else or not. _“If it makes you feel any better, I heard voices too.”_

The clown’s voice was one of the many details left out of the dreams he was trapped in. It was so strange how his mind took the voices he heard and warped them into a manifestation Eddie would understand under the context of his beliefs. Eddie recalled the vague mention of it when the others explained what all happened in reality and how they aligned the events of his dreams. He never heard the details, so all Eddie knew was that It would whisper terrible, unspeakable to Richie. Richie was vague when he’d spoken of it, and Eddie could tell almost immediately that he was concealing something more. 

“The clown,” Eddie whispered quietly, unmoving as he watched Richie blink in surprise. A slow but steady look of realization came over his face when he recalled what he’d told Eddie the previous day about the voice. 

_“Yeah, the clown,”_ Richie nodded solemnly, slightly out of it, _“What an asshole.”_

Eddie half-smiled sympathetically, his face falling when Richie started to speak on his own. There was something dark laced in the nervous tone of his voice. 

_”After we got you here...the clown’s voice showed up in my mind, just like it did when we were kids. It planted these thoughts in my head, and once they were there...I couldn’t get them out no matter how wrong they were,”_ Richie muttered in a tight voice, speaking quickly as if he’d been holding his breath and desperately needed to gasp for air. 

Eddie remembered what Richie said to him, and how it helped. He wanted to be the same for Richie. “What were the thoughts?” He asked quietly, “What did It say to you?”

_“Uh, It started by telling me it was my fault that you nearly died,”_ Richie admitted, his eyes suddenly glazing over as he became lost in his thoughts. Eddie waited patiently, knowing he probably looked exactly the same just minutes ago when he fell into the same mental trap. _“It said that if I hadn’t gotten caught in the Deadlights, you would’ve been alright.”_

Yes, Eddie remembered that from Richie’s outburst after Mike read Stanley’s letter out loud for the rest of the Losers. “What else?” Eddie asked gently. 

Richie swallowed before he reached up and adjusted his glasses on his nose. _“It told me that if anyone knew my secret...they’d abandon me. It made me believe that I couldn’t trust anyone, not even my best friends in the whole world.”_

Every word was another painful blow to Eddie’s heart as he listened in anguished silence. _“He made me feel so alone,”_ Richie choked, the sound of his voice cracking equivalent to a punch to the gut for Eddie. _”I was too scared to let myself grow too close to anyone in fear of losing them once they found out what I was hiding.”_

The words _burned_ Eddie now, a searing pain ripping across his chest and down towards the bandage wrapped around his abdomen. 

_”Even after I forgot about Derry and all of you, that...thing never left my mind,”_ Richie said darkly, unblinking as he stared blankly into his phone’s camera. _”It stopped speaking, but the ideas It planted still fucked me up so bad...I felt like there was always something there, watching me, even though I never knew what caused it until now.”_

Eddie blinked, realization dawning on him as he connected his own voices with Richie’s. Present ever since childhood, always there even if they no longer recalled the other person’s existence. An unexplainable but constant feeling of dread that consumed their daily lives after leaving Derry. With memories wiped, the inability of them to uncover the powerful, suppressed emotions that the clown locked away far from their reach. 

_”So I kept to myself, mostly,”_ Richie confessed as his expression dropped, _”No friends and almost no family. I hated it, but I knew that keeping myself away from everyone else meant that I couldn’t hurt them with my lies, and that they couldn’t hurt me when they fled.”_

“Jesus fuck, Rich…” Eddie breathed, heart dropping. He stared at his phone’s screen in horror as he tried to process Richie’s words. 

_“Oh, just wait,”_ Richie added with the driest of laughs, _“We’re not even to the bad stuff yet.”_

“Richie,” Eddie said, his tone hesitant but stern as he detected a new level of pain in Richie’s voice that frightened him a bit, “You don’t have to-” 

_”No, you...you need to know,”_ Richie affirmed strongly with a shake of his head. 

Eddie sighed, “Okay.” 

_”When I was alone, which was...most of the time,”_ Richie started, his eyes falling as he spoke, _”The thoughts It whispered to me got so much louder, and so much worse. The clown was the one who drove me away from ever having real friends, yet he was also the one who told me that my life was pointless and my career meaningless because I had nobody. He told me that if I died, nobody would miss me. And...I believed him without question.”_

Pointless. 

Meaningless. 

Eddie was quite certain he felt his heart shatter at the weakness and vulnerability in Richie’s strained words. An anger boiled inside him, filling him with a vengeful rage at the clown for making Richie endure such suffering for almost all his life. Yes, at the same time, Eddie felt an immense wave of remorse and a desperate need to prove the clown wrong was over him. Eddie loved Richie more than anything, and to hear him say such degrading things about himself brought Eddie to tears. 

What the fuck, Richie. 

What the _fuck_. 

Richie caught Eddie’s panicked expression through the phone camera and sighed deeply. He took a moment to breathe in and out slowly, as if to calm himself down. _“I thought about it sometimes.”_

Eddie felt a powerful surge of dread spread through his body at those words. 

_”There were nights when I...I held a bottle of pills in my hand and almost downed the whole thing right then and there,”_ Richie uttered shamefully, the world flipping Eddie’s entire world on its axis and sending him tumbling into an inescapable abyss. With another deep breath, Richie forced the rest out as he watched Eddie’s panic grow on his phone screen. _”It seemed so easy, so quick. The voice in my head loved every second of it...It fed off my fears just like the damn clown did.”_

What the _FUCK_ , Richie?

Eddie was weeping now, uncontrollable cries squeezing out of him between his sharp, uneven intakes of air. He tried to speak but couldn’t, his throat was on fire. “Richie…”

_WHAT THE FUCK?_

_”I, uh...never told anyone that before,”_ Richie added quietly, suddenly unable to look at his phone’s screen any longer. He pretended to be looking at something else in the room. 

“Oh Rich…” Eddie sobbed, pointedly distressed. His hands shook and he struggled to hold his phone steady and keep the camera on his face. “... _F-fuck_.”

Richie’s eyes widened as Eddie started to cry even harder. 

_“Eddie, Eddie listen,”_ Richie pleaded, his own voice breaking at the sight of Eddie so distraught, _“...I’m sorry, I...I hit some serious lows by myself, but I’m still here, Eddie. Even when I didn’t remember you, you were always there to pull me away from the dark...and then you almost died, and I-”_

“Richie…” Eddie started, only to be cut off again. 

_”I realized how STUPID I’d been, how I had so many damn chances to just...tell you the truth,”_ Richie forced out as he struggled to hold what was left of his composure. _”But I waited. I used to convince myself that it wasn’t the right time to tell you, that next time it’d be different.”_

Eddie felt his own rush of guilt strike him at that one, thinking about how much more they’d could’ve been if one of them just sucked it up and took the goddamn leap. 

Letting his eyes fall shut, Richie continued. _”When I almost lost you, I realized there’s no point in waiting. I wanted to be able to spend the rest of my life not CARING what other people thought about me. It didn’t even matter whether you felt the same or not, I just really, really needed you to know.”_

Quit the bullshit, Eddie. 

There was nothing to be done about the time they’d lost. It was in the past, permanently part of a fading world that gradually took their childhood memories with it. But the future? Oh, Eddie had so much planned. 

An entire lifetime’s worth. 

Eddie stared back into the camera, a bittersweet warmth filling his chest as he stared at the man he loved through the screen of his phone. “Thank you, Rich.” 

Richie frowned, still visibly upset with himself, _“For what?”_

“For telling me everything, while I was in the coma,” Eddie answered, referring to everything Richie confessed to the other Losers while Eddie was trapped in the vivid, life-like visions of his coma. 

_”I didn’t know you were listening,”_ Richie said as a thoughtful look overcame his face. 

“And I didn’t even know I was still alive,” Eddie countered, raising his eyebrows with his voice for emphasis. “But I heard you anyways. Hearing you say those words was what helped me find my way back, Rich. I thought I was dead but that never stopped me from fighting to get back to you when you left.”

_“Eddie-”_

“Thank you, Richie,” Eddie repeated sincerely as his eyes began to burn from the hot tears welling there. 

Richie half-smiled in return as both of them found themselves in tears once again, just as they had a few minutes prior. Their gasping and choked cries echoed through their speakers while their faces contorted with their sobs, the exaggerated sights and sounds of themselves on their screens making them laugh weakly. 

They looked ridiculous, but Eddie didn’t give a shit. 

He was just so unbelievably happy. 

Richie and Eddie were both alive and healing in more ways than one, and they now had the comfort of knowing that they were both going to be alright. They were together now, and they were never going to leave each others’ sides again. Maybe it was the sleep deprivation, or the stress of the day, or possibly even the pure glee of knowing that Richie loved him back...but Eddie couldn’t stop beaming at his camera. Perhaps it was a mix of each. Richie chuckled lightly at the sight, shaking his head as he lost himself into another fit of laughter. 

To cry had always brought Eddie relief in times of despair, but it was nothing compared to the cleansing that a proper laugh always gave him. It was a comfort he’d never felt with anyone else besides Richie, not even with Myra. Richie understood him unlike the others, and Eddie felt so safe with him and able to open up about anything without the pooling fear of judgement forming in his stomach. 

Eddie felt so loved. 

It was bliss. 

Smiling at the sensation, Eddie fell into an even louder fit of laughter despite the tears that still streaked down his face. He felt everything all at once, emotions pouring into him from all sides, but it didn’t faze Eddie. 

Anguish. Surprise. Guilt. Relief. Dread. Elation…

...Love.

With Richie there to keep him anchored, Eddie knew he could rise above it all. 

_“Hey Eds,”_ Richie chuckled, hunching forward with a grin so that only half his face showed on Eddie’s screen. 

“What did I tell you, dipshit,” Eddie stammered as he tried and failed to stifle his laughs as he spoke, “Stop calling me Eds.” 

_“Ed-Eddie,”_ Richie said between his laughs as they grew even louder. 

“What?” Eddie sighed, rolling his eyes. He couldn’t wipe the smile off his face as Richie stared at him on the screen, smiling widely. 

_“We’re gonna need so much therapy after this, man,”_ Richie practically wheezed, his body shaking as another fit of laughter struck him. 

Eddie stared at his phone screen with a flabbergasted expression, the dark tone of his joke catching Eddie by surprise. He found himself smiling, however, staring at the man who so greatly resembled his best friend from childhood as he cackled on the other line. Richie opened up to Eddie tonight in ways he never had before, and Eddie guessed it was only a matter of time before Richie felt the incessant need to squeeze in another joke to lighten the mood. 

While the statement was meant to be a joke, Eddie couldn’t help but relax onto his bed knowing that Richie had faced his own demons in their long time apart. And while their methods of destruction certainly displayed some stark differences, their fears were one in the same in the end. 

A fear of embracing who they truly were. 

Despite the terrors they’d faced as children, or the crippling secrets they both carried on their shoulders, or the dark years they’d faced once separated, or the trauma they lived as Eddie slept in that hospital bed for so many weeks…

...Eddie couldn’t help but embrace the exhilaration of staring into the eyes of the man he loved while knowing their future together was certain and without fear. 

So yeah, Richie was right. 

They were probably gonna need _so_ much fucking therapy when all of this is over. 

But the fact that they were both here and able to talk about going to therapy, to talk about their future together, and to talk about their unwavering love for one another? To discuss such important things so casually, without the worry that one of them would slip away from this world forever at any given moment? It was a gift Eddie was so grateful for, one he would never take for granted again. 

Eddie and Richie were alive, safe, and together. 

That’s all that mattered in the end. 

They could deal with the rest. 

And so, Eddie found himself laughing even harder as Richie lost himself in the same bliss. It felt like they were children again, laughing blindly as they quarrelled over irrelevant things, oblivious and innocent to the horrors they’d soon meet. 

Eddie relished the recollection. 

“Yeah,” Eddie eventually got out between his chuckles, “Let me know when you find a good therapist that specializes in fighting killer space clowns.” 

_“Sure thing, Eddie Spaghetti,”_ Richie smiled, laughing like an idiot as Eddie mirrored his behavior. 

Eddie wasn’t sure how long it was until they finally quieted down and hung up. He placed his phone on the nightstand beside his bed and laid down, a new wave of exhaustion suddenly overcoming him. The sweet embrace of rest found him minutes later, and Eddie slept soundly. 

No nightmares made themselves known.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I Choose - India.Arie
> 
> Because you never know where life is gonna take you  
> And you can't change where you've been  
> But today, I have the opportunity to choose
> 
> Here am I now looking at 30 and I got so much to say  
> I gotta get this off of my chest, I gotta let it go today  
> I was always too concerned about what everybody would think  
> But I can't live for everybody, I gotta live my life for me.(Yeah)  
> I pitched a fork in the road of my life  
> And ain't nothing gonna happen unless I decide
> 
> (And I choose) to be the best that I can be  
> (I choose) to be authentic in everything I do  
> My past don't dictate who I am  
> I choose. (Yeah)
> 
> I done been through some painful things  
> I thought that I would never make it through  
> Filled up with shame from the top of my head  
> To the soles of my shoes  
> I put myself in so many chaotic circumstances  
> But by the grace of God I've been given so many second chances  
> But today I decided to let it all go  
> I'm dropping these bags, I'm making room for my joy
> 
> (And I choose) to be the best that I can be  
> (I choose) to be authentic in everything I do  
> My past don't dictate who I am  
> I choose
> 
> Because you never know where life is gonna take you  
> And you can't change where you've been  
> But today, I have the opportunity to choose. (Hey ey)  
> Released the guilt about why things happen the way they do  
> Cos life is gone do what it do  
> And everyday, I have the opportunity to choose
> 
> From this day forward I'm going to be exactly who I am  
> I don't need to change the way that I live just to get a man. (NO!)  
> I even had a talk with my mama and I told her the day I'm grown  
> "From this day forward, every decision I make will be my own." And hey!
> 
> (And I choose) to be the best that I can be  
> (I choose) to be courageous in everything I do  
> My past don't dictate who I am. I choose  
> (And I choose) to be the best that I can be  
> (I choose) to be authentic in everything I do  
> My past don't dictate who I am. I choose
> 
> Because you never know where life is gonna take you and you can't change where you've been  
> But today, I have the opportunity to choose. (Hey ey)  
> Released the guilt about why things happen they way they did cuz life is gone do what it do  
> And everyday, I have the opportunity to choose


	39. Recover

The first day brought comfort.

**Trashmouth (Me!):**  
morning everyone 

**Trashmouth (Me!):**  
this is the only group-text that matters now cause eddie AND patty are in it

**Trashmouth (Me!):**  
hi patty!

**Trashmouth (Me!):**  
hi eds <3

**Edward Spaghettward:**  
Good morning to everyone except Richie

 **Stanford Urine:**  
^Seconded. 

**Patty-Cake Uris:**  
Hi Richie!

**Trashmouth (Me!):**  
alright i retract my original statement

**Trashmouth (Me!):**  
good morning to patty ONLY

**Ben Handsome:**  
Richie aren’t you in the shower right now

**Trashmouth (Me!):**  
yeah its called multi-tasking benjamin

**Mike-al Hanlon:**  
….Why?

 **Billiam Den-Bro:**  
That’s gross Rich

Richie stood in the shower, hot water running against his back. He angled his phone in one hand so it wouldn’t get wet and continued washing his hair with the other. With his glasses off and on the counter beside the shower curtain, Richie had to squint in order to read the new messages popping up on his screen. Upon reading Bill’s, he rolled his eyes and opened his phone’s camera. He snapped a photo of himself from the shoulders up, wearing an annoyed face and flipping off the camera.

**Trashmouth (Me!):**  
_2722.jpeg_

**Trashmouth (Me!):**  
fuck you guys

**Bevvie Marsh:**  
 _0604.jpeg_

 **Bevvie Marsh:**  
sorry, im with richie on this one

Richie tapped the new photo as he washed the last of his soap off his body. An amused laugh broke from his mouth when he was met with a photo of Beverly, who was also in the shower, in a near-identical pose to Richie’s.

**Trashmouth (Me!):**  
glad to know bevvie and i are still the superior losers

**Bevvie Marsh:**  
;)

 **Stanford Urine:**  
STOP. 

**Stanford Urine:**  
ENOUGH.

 **Edward Spaghettward:**  
Stop dicking around it’s almost visiting hours 

**Edward Spaghettward:**  
You said you’d come back first thing :(

Richie’s phone was back on the bathroom counter seconds after Richie read the most recent texts. He rushed to finish cleaning himself off and was out of the shower in less than a minute. Chuckling to himself at how easily a single sad emoji from Eddie could get him off his ass, Richie ran a dry towel through his hair and threw on some clean clothes. 

Within another ten minutes, Richie had the rest of the group corralled near the front door of the hotel suite, which was identical in design to the one they’d stayed in previously. To Richie’s amusement, he found himself stuck in a car with Stanley, Patty, and Beverly for the short drive to the hospital. They argued about the practicability of using a phone in the shower for nearly the entire ride, and Richie was fairly certain Stanley was about to blow a gasket by the time they pulled in. 

It was originally Ben’s idea to stop at the gift shop downstairs and pick up some things to make Eddie’s room feel a bit more homey. Beverly and Patty immediately jumped on the idea, dragging the rest of the group into the store behind them. Richie smiled when they walked around arm-in-arm, happy that Beverly finally had another woman in the group. He honestly had no clue how Beverly put up with the other Losers as children for so many years. 

The rest of the group split up and Richie found himself quietly strolling along the walls beside Stanley. They passed cards, stuffed animals, and other gifts Richie knew Eddie wouldn’t care for. He stopped after reaching the end of an aisle, turning towards Stanley with an amused look as he pointed his finger towards the top shelf. Stanley followed Richie’s gaze and rolled his eyes when he spotted a row of small plush clowns.

“Hey Stan, d-”

“Beep fucking beep, Richie.” 

Fifteen minutes passed by the time everyone picked something out and made their purchases. With Beverly and Ben leading the way, the group paraded upstairs towards Eddie’s room. Ben knocked on Eddie’s door and smiled through the window before swinging the door open and stepping inside. Richie could hear Eddie’s voice from the hallway, the sound making his heart jump with excitement. 

“Guys? What’s all this?” Eddie laughed, watching as everyone piled into his room bearing small gifts. Richie entered last, his gift for Eddie hidden behind his back as he caught the man’s surprised gaze and smiled. 

“They’re for you!” Patty grinned. She placed a small vase of carnations on Eddie’s nightstand while Beverly did the same on the other side with some daisies. Behind them, Ben took the liberty of tying the balloons that he, Mike, and Bill all pitched in to get to one of the chairs nearby. 

“You didn’t have to do this,” Eddie said, unable to keep the pleased smile off his face, “Having you all here is more than enough.” 

Beverly playfully swatted at Eddie’s shoulder. “We _wanted_ to, Eddie. Stop fussing.” 

Stanley walked forward next, handing Eddie the small booklet he’d been hiding behind his back. He smirked when Eddie snatched it from his hands with excitement to study its contents. Flipping through the pages, Eddie found it to be filled with advanced puzzles, riddles, and games. “It’s just a little something in case you ever get bored after visiting hours are over,” Stanely said with a shrug.

Eddie grinned, shooting a thankful look towards Stanley before turning back towards the others. “Wow, uh, thanks everyone.” 

“Hey, wait a sec,” Richie said, stepping forward with one hand still behind his back, “You have one more.” 

All faces turned towards Richie, who only focused on Eddie’s face. The man stared at him with raised eyebrows and an expectant look, waiting for him to reveal it. Richie swallowed as he stepped forward to the side of Eddie’s bed. 

Why the hell was he suddenly so nervous?

Richie blamed his inner teenage boy and all those years he spent repressing his feelings growing up. He never had the same experience as a lot of other people when it came to dating. Richie never went on dates before college, and never hooked up with anyone until a few years after that. None of those hook-ups ever lasted more than a few nights, though. 

None of them were Eddie. 

Heart pounding way faster and louder than it should’ve been, Richie threw on the most confident expression he could muster and smiled down at Eddie. “Since we, uh, spent all of our childhoods as far back in the closet as we could go, I never really got the chance to ask you…” 

Eddie frowned, his eyes narrowing as he watched Richie drop to the floor on one knee. “Dude,” He laughed in confusion, “What’re you doing?” 

“Eddie Spaghetti,” Richie said lovingly, reaching up to place his free hand over his heart. He pulled his other hand out from behind his back, exhaling nervously, and extended it towards Eddie. Between his index finger and thumb was the plastic handle of a ring pop. “Will you go on a date with me?” 

A dumbstruck smile flashed on Eddie’s face before he broke into a fit of laughter, his gaze never leaving Richie’s. The sight of pure joy in Eddie’s eyes would’ve been enough to bring Richie to his knees if he hadn’t already been there. He chuckled at Eddie’s stupid grin as he stood, waiting anxiously for an answer. 

“Oh my _god_ ,” Eddie managed to get out between his laughs, which seemed to contain equal amounts of shock and delight. He probably felt the same way Richie did, completely swept away by the feelings of a silly teenage crush that grew into something so much more. “Yes,” Eddie finally answered with a nod, “Yes, I’d like that.” 

Upon hearing those words, Richie really _did_ feel like a kid again. 

“YES!” Richie shouted triumphantly as he stood and shot both arms into the air. It’s not like he was expecting Eddie to say no after everything that happened yesterday, but that didn’t do anything to weaken the overwhelming exhilaration Richie felt. The gesture drew a loud chorus of laughs and cheers from the others as Richie stepped forward and slid the ring pop on Eddie’s finger. 

Eddie rolled his eyes as he accepted the candy, still shaking his head in disbelief. He giggled when Richie placed a kiss on the back of his hand before sitting down in the chair he’d pulled up beside the bed. Everyone was settled in a few minutes later, chatting happily as Eddie slowly worked on eating his ring pop. Richie was floored when Eddie first brought the candy up to his mouth and licked it. He fully expected Eddie to take it off and say he couldn’t eat it because it contained some weird ingredients he couldn’t have. 

But after everything they’d been through, Richie had the itching suspicion that it was an act of defiance against Eddie’s mother and Myra...as silly as that sounded. Just like when he found out nearly all of his medications from childhood were just placebos, or gazebos as Eddie called them, Eddie probably started to realize he wasn’t allergic to as many foods as he was led to believe. Either way, Richie couldn’t pull his attention from watching Eddie eat it if he tried. 

It may have just been the cutest fucking thing Richie had ever seen in his entire goddamn life. 

Cute, cute, CUTE!

Within a few hours, Joey stopped by for morning rounds and was more than pleased to see everyone and their decorative gifts. She quickly checked Eddie’s charts, making sure to remind him that his very first session of physical therapy was later that day. He nodded, a few longer locks of his hair falling in his face as he did so. 

As soon as Joey finished checking in and was out of the room, Beverly smiled and reached into her purse to pull out a medium-size pair of scissors. Eddie sighed with relief at the sight, more than ready to part with his overgrown look. Beverly certainly wasn’t a pro at cutting hair or anything, but she was the only one Eddie trusted to approach him with a pair of scissors...which was probably a valid concern. 

Beverly took her time, making sure to not leave any strands uncut or any ends uneven. And Richie had to admit she did a pretty damn good job. After styling his hair up and slightly angled towards the side, it looked just like it had when Eddie first returned to Derry. Eddie was even more pleased when he held up the small mirror Beverly brought and studied the cut from multiple angles. 

Okay, Eddie was right. 

He looked _really_ good with this haircut. 

Once Beverly was done, Bill informed Eddie that he remembered to bring a razor if he wanted to shave his beard as well. Eddie accepted the offer, preferring to do that one himself so long as someone else held Beverly’s mirror for him. He left the towel Beverly placed over his shoulders and chest to catch his hair as she cut it as Mike stepped up to hold the mirror in front of his face. 

To Richie’s surprise, Eddie took his previous suggestion and ended up leaving a bit of stubble to give himself a subtle 5 o’clock shadow. It framed his face perfectly, and it took every ounce of Richie’s self control to not leap onto the bed and make out with him right then and there. 

Eddie looked _hot_.

Unaware of the pointedly gaping expression on his face, Richie frowned in confusion when Eddie glanced over and shot him a very amused expression. Richie made to smile at him, but was stopped abruptly when Eddie smirked and fucking _winked_ at him. Blinking, Richie hastily clutched the arms of his chair, convinced he was genuinely going to pass out this time. 

Was Eddie _trying_ to kill him?

As if on cue, Eddie turned and shot him another smirk upon seeing how flustered Richie was at the sight of him. 

That motherfucker. 

A nurse brought Eddie some food in the early afternoon, telling him to eat slowly and drink plenty of water. To his annoyance, Richie took up the job he’d previously assigned himself of making sure Eddie drank enough water in proportion to the food he ate. Eddie didn’t seem to mind, though, far too absorbed in the sensation of eating _real_ food again. 

It was evening by the time the Joey and another nurse showed up at Eddie’s door, saying it was time for his first session of therapy. The group made to leave the room, Richie with them, until he felt a hand tightly gripping his wrist and pulling him back. Richie turned and was met with a pair of eyes that held a nervous glisten under the fluorescent lights. 

“Rich?” Eddie asked timidly, still holding onto Richie’s wrist. “Stay with me?” 

“You sure?” Richie asked as he quickly shot a look towards the others through the glass panel of Eddie’s closing door. When he glanced back, Eddie was nodding towards him with unwavering certainty. “Okay,” Richie said, taking a seat in the same chair he occupied nearly all day, “Sure thing, Eddie.” 

“Wow, look at you!” Joey breathed as she and the nurse each put on a fresh pair of nitrile gloves, “I like the haircut.” 

Eddie smiled back, “Thanks.” 

Joey walked over to the opposite side of the bed that Richie sat at, placing both hands on the railing of Eddie’s bed. “So how are you feeling, Eddie? Food sitting alright?” 

“Fine, and yeah,” Eddie nodded curtly. 

“That’s good,” Joey replied with a half-smile. Something was off about her expression, and Richie noticed almost immediately. Her eyes no longer carried the same glimmer they did just moments ago. “Alright, Eddie,” Joey said again after taking a deep breath, “So while you were still in the coma, we had nurses come in a few times a day and move your body in various positions to prevent bedsores, muscular atrophy, and anything else that could be caused by laying in a bed for too long.” 

“Right,” Eddie said with another nod. Richie was present for that conversation, but he only remembered bits and pieces. He was far too distracted with the confession Eddie made to him just hours prior. 

“But,” Joey exhaled, “That only did so much. It’s not the same as using your legs to walk every day.” 

Richie swallowed nervously. He felt Eddie tense beside him, knowing that he too picked up on the sudden change in Joey’s presentation. “So…” Richie started, unable to finish his question. 

“So even though you won’t be able to feel everything in your legs, the parts you _can_ feel are gonna hurt...a lot,” Joey admitted dismally as she moved to position herself at the end of Eddie’s bed. The other nurse joined her as they carefully pulled down the sheets to reveals Eddie’s legs. “But we have to do it if we want to rebuild the muscle mass you lost.”

Eddie nodded in understanding, mouth in a tight line. Richie saw the fearful look on his face and didn’t hesitate to reach out and take Eddie’s hand in both his own. “It’s okay Eds,” Richie said as their eyes met, trying his best to hide the nervousness in his own voice, “I’m right here.” 

“We’re gonna start with some easier ones first,” Joey asked as she and the nurse positioned themselves in front of either of Eddie’s feet. “Are you ready?”

“Yeah,” Eddie forced out, his stare towards Richie never faltering. He squeezed Richie’s hands so tightly that it hurt, but Richie didn’t dare let it show on his face. Not with the level of pain Eddie was about to endure. 

“Okay,” Joey said as she placed one hand on top of Eddie’s foot and the other around his ankle. She shot a quick glance at the nurse as she mimicked the same movement on the other foot. Before starting, however, Joey noticed Eddie’s apprehension to watch and quickly asked another question. “Do you want me to describe what we’re going to do before we do it?” 

“No, no,” Eddie shook his head sharply, “Just do it.” 

Joey and the nurse started by curling over Eddie’s toes, pointing his feet, and then flexing his feet in a repetitive motion. Eddie flinched at first but didn’t seem too bothered by the sensation, much to Richie’s relief. Richie hated how helpless he felt, being forced to watch Eddie in pain while not being able to do anything to take it all away. But Eddie wanted him there, so he made sure to offer as much encouragement and support as he could. 

The tension in Eddie’s hand faded a bit as they continued the slow, controlled movements of his feet. About five minutes passed before the pair moved on to the next exercise without telling Eddie. The second set of movements weren’t bad either, as it only involved making slow rotations of the ankles in both clockwise and counterclockwise directions. 

It was the third combination that drew the first hiss of pain from Eddie. 

“Sorry, Eddie,” Joey winced from where she carefully abducted his right leg away from his center, making sure to keep it straight as she moved it. They’d adjusted Eddie’s bed so that he was lying all the way down for this one, so Richie made sure to scoot even closer to the bed to still reach his hand. Joey repeated the motion, moving Eddie’s leg in and out, before the nurse repeated the same movements on the other leg. “You’re doing great.” 

Eddie nodded at the feedback as he breathed heavily through his nose. He still gripped Richie’s hands tightly, with his eyes squeezed shut and the side of his head pressed down onto his pillow. 

Another ten minutes passed before Joey and the nurse shared another unreadable look. Starting with the left leg, which Eddie didn’t have nearly as much sensation it, the nurse slowly bent Eddie’s knee towards his chest while Joey kept the other one straight. Eddie groaned loudly as a new wave of pain struck his body, the sound breaking Richie’s heart. He did his best to whisper words of encouragement to Eddie even though he was fairly certain the man wasn’t listening at all. 

Without stopping, the nurse straightened Eddie’s leg before carefully bringing it back down to rest of the bed. She repeated the same movements for a while until Joey finally gave her a nod of approval. Eddie tensed when he felt the movements of the bed come to a sudden stop. He knew what was coming next. Only small fractions of his right leg were lacking sensation, meaning this one was about to hurt far more than the left. Eddie’s hand shook against Richie’s when Joey reached down and grasped his ankle and calf. 

Eddie’s steady breathing hitched when Joey bent his knee, which was soon followed by a sharp cry by the time the leg was fully bent. He hissed again as Joey straightened his leg, his eyes shooting open and darting around frantically. Quickly finding Richie’s concerned stare, Eddie gazed back at him with a panicked expression. The sight tore Richie apart from the inside-out, the only thing keeping him grounded being Eddie’s trembling hand in his own. “Come on, Eddie,” Richie said, pulling the man’s attention back to him, “Deep breaths.” 

Listening to Richie as best he could, Eddie sucked in slow, heavy breaths with Richie and exhaled them through his mouth. That method worked for the rest of the movements, but went down the drain when Joey and the nurse started the final exercise for the day. They’d brought Eddie’s legs together on the bed before bending them both towards his chest. From each side of the bed, they carefully pushed and pulled his closed legs together from side-to-side. 

Eddie damn near screamed the first time they did it. 

Tears spilled down Eddie’s face when he squeezed his eyes shut again, hunching forward into attempt to alleviate some of the pain. 

“Richie, he needs to keep his shoulders on the bed,” Joey said sternly as she pulled both legs towards her side of the bed, clearly wanting to finish this as soon as possible for Eddie’s sake. 

Richie nodded before standing quickly from his chair. He let Eddie’s hand slip from his own as he stepped near the top of the bed and sat himself down carefully. With one knee adjacent to Eddie’s head, which now laid flat against the sheets once again, Richie carefully placed one hand on either of Eddie’s shoulders. “Eddie, you’re almost done,” Richie breathed as he leaned his head down closer to Eddie’s face, “Just a few more minutes.” 

Another choked sob escaped Eddie’s mouth when he instinctively tried to sit up again. Richie pushed down on his shoulders, a terrible anguish ripping through his stomach at how hard Eddie fought back. Applying more force to Eddie’s shoulders, Richie leaned down and tried to distract Eddie with the only way he knew how. “Hey, Eddie, remember in high school when you could buy a rose and send it to someone anonymously for Valentine’s day?” 

“What?” Eddie all but whimpered, growing flustered as another wave of pain flashed across his face. 

“You got one every year from someone who signed the tag with the initials Y.M. and you never figured out who it was, remember?” Richie asked quickly as he pushed down even harder on Eddie’s shoulders when the man flinched again. 

Eddie paused, his eyes locking with Richie’s. Richie could see the recollection in his eyes as he memories came flooding back into his mind. “Oh, right...why are you bringing this up n-” 

“It was me,” Richie blurted out before Eddie could finish, “They were all from me.”

A rush of relief overcame Richie when a smile appeared on Eddie’s face despite the pain. Eddie let out a breathy laugh as Richie caught the look of thanks Joey shot in his direction. She continued the movements of his legs at the same pace, taking advantage of Eddie’s distracted state to get the worst parts out of the way. 

“Wait-” Eddie breathed, his words breaking off in another hiss as his legs were stretched towards his right side again. His body grew tense, and he waited until Joey and the nurse returned his legs to a parallel position before continuing. “Why Y.M., what does that mean?” 

“The fuck do you _think_ it means, Eds?” Richie smirked as he shot Eddie a devious look. “Look who you’re talking to, here.” 

Eddie frowned in confusion, taking in Richie’s expression as he tried to piece together what he meant. Richie watched in amusement as Eddie’s gaze morphed from one of confusion into one of an annoyed disbelief. “Are you fucking kidding me, Richie? _Your mom_?!”

The sound of Richie’s laughter filled the room as he hunched forward a bit, consumed by his fit of cackles. Eddie tried to reach up and swat at him, only to be stopped when Richie reached down and pinned Eddie’s upper arms to the bed. Richie glanced up to remind Eddie he wasn’t supposed to move when he was met by a wide grin. Face scrunched, Eddie was trying and failing to hold back his laughter, which only sent Richie into a further into his laughter. 

So caught in their banter, neither Eddie or Richie noticed when Joey and the nurse finished the final exercise and stepped back. Joey chuckled under her breath at the sight as she removed her gloves and tossed them in the appropriate waste bin. It wasn’t until she walked back towards the side of Eddie’s bed did the pair finally notice her approaching. “I’m sorry, Eddie,” Joey flashed Eddie a sad smile, “Told you it would hurt.” 

Eddie glanced up and returned the same expression. “It’s okay,” He muttered, reaching up to wipe the streaks of tears from his face with a fist, “It’s something we gotta do, right?” 

“That’s right,” Joey nodded, her eyes tired, “We’re gonna do it once a day, along with some other movements to keep your blood flowing.” 

Richie felt Eddie shiver under his hands when he replied, “Okay.” 

“You did really well,” Joey added with a kind smile as she and the nurse made their way towards the door. “Now get some rest, you earned it.” 

As the door clicked shut behind them, Eddie groaned and slumped onto the bed and heaved an exhausted sigh. Richie was over him in an instant, releasing the pressure from his upper arms and leaning down to carefully wrap his hand around Eddie’s shoulders. Pulling Eddie close and letting the man bury his face on his chest, Richie leaned forward and placed a gentle kiss on Eddie’s forehead. “Good job, Spaghetti Man.” 

Eddie sighed contently, but spoke with a warning tone, “Don’t think I forgot what you just told me. ‘Your mom,’ Rich? Seriously?” 

“What? It was funny,” Richie chuckled as he leaned down to rest his cheek on top of Eddie’s head. “It’s not like I was about to sign them from _myself_.”

“It was _stupid_ ,” Eddie grumbled, his amused voice partly muffled by Richie’s shirt. 

“Yeah, coming from the guy who told me he fucked my mom after getting _stabbed_ by a killer clown?” Richie questioned as he poked Eddie’s arm. 

Closing his fist, Eddie reached up and punched Richie’s shoulder. “Beep beep, asshole.” 

The second day brought closure. 

Richie took up the rear of the group as they strode through the entrance of the hospital and towards the familiar set of double doors. They were now known as regulars to the hospital staff, who recognized their faces from their previous extended stay. Ben and Mike offered the staff some waves a quick greetings, but Richie was far too focused on getting back to Eddie than anything else. He thought he saw a flash beside him as he strode a ways back from the others, but turned and didn’t see it again. Must’ve been the stress finally getting to him. 

The morning was calming. With such a hectic previous day, the Losers only had so much time to talk to Eddie before being constantly ushered out of the room for more tests and exams. As a result, they all gathered around Eddie’s bed in a semi-circle of chairs and just...talked. 

It started out on a darker tone at first, with Eddie telling everyone else more about his dreams from the coma. For some, it was their first time learning about the experience altogether. Beverly in particular listened with great intensity, her hand almost constantly covering her mouth with shock. But as Eddie spoke of the things he’d heard, the group casually drifted into conversations about what he’d missed while asleep for three months. 

Beverly was still living with Ben near Chicago, and she was making good progress on setting up her own business. Everyone, particularly Eddie, wore some of the widest grins Richie had ever seen as she spoke. Knowing what Beverly had been through, it was the most relieving and joyous thing to see her finally breaking free of the vicious cycle that trapped her for almost all of her life. She was finally free to make her own choices without fear of repercussions from those who were supposed to protect her. 

Ben had been spending a lot of time at the office, working on a new project that may or may not have been related to Beverly’s work. He wouldn’t indulge in too many details, but Richie knew by the small smile on Beverly’s face that it was something they’d been working on together. Eddie took a particular interest in Ben’s plan, trying to pry as much information out of him as possible regarding management, organization, and investments. 

Richie still had no idea what the fuck risk analyists did in their line of work, so most of their conversation went right over his head. All Richie _did_ know was that the way Eddie’s eyes lit up while talking about Ben’s plan nearly sent Richie to the floor. He could watch Eddie ramble on and on about it for hours on end and wouldn’t get bored. 

Mike finished getting settled into his new home down in Florida and recently acquired a new job at a local bookstore. He seemed really excited about it, going on about how similar the job was to the one he had back in Derry. But this one was better in an infinite number of ways, like how he didn’t have to use his skills for researching killer clowns anymore. The warmer weather was also a huge plus, especially now that autumn weather had finally arrived. 

Patty excitedly spoke about her and Stanley’s trip to Florida to go visit Mike. She gushed about how beautiful his house was and how close it was to a beach. Stanley watched her with an admiring gaze as she listed all the things they did including spending entire days at the beach, going on hikes, trying new foods, and of course...all of the bird-watching. Richie listened to her fondly as he studied Stanley’s stare, which was still locked on his wife. He’d never seen him look at anyone like that before, and he was so incredibly happy that he found someone that made him smile like that. 

After getting back to Georgia, Stanely took a bit more time off to recover before he started to look at options for returning to work. He’d contacted the company he’d been working for before the day of Mike’s call, informing them he was out of the hospital and able to start working again. Unaware of the context or extent of Stanley’s injuries, they’d offered his old position to someone else. They did, however, offer Stanley an even better job through the same company and in the same area, just a few miles further down the road. He’d only been working there for just under two months, but he seemed to be really enjoying it. 

Bill, who’d remained fairly quiet, spoke of the new ending he wrote for his film and how they shot it all within just a few short weeks. He started planning out ideas for his next book immediately after, and told the group about the many breaks he took with Richie whenever he got writer’s block. Richie leaned forward in his seat when Bill finished his updates without including a single mention of Audra. He shot his friend a concerned look from across the room, but Bill shrugged it off immediately. 

A few of the others picked up on Bill’s withdrawn stance and hesitation to say more, so Richie quickly spoke up to draw their attention towards him instead. He made a mental note to check on Bill later. “Damn, I should’ve gone first,” Richie laughed, running a hand through his hair, “All of you were so productive and successful...and there I was holing up in Bill’s house, spending nearly all of my time in a blanket-cocoon, and getting accused of being on drugs, so…”

“Wait, _what_?” Eddie asked, a flabbergasted expression sweeping over his face. 

“Don’t worry about it, I’ll tell you later,” Richie shrugged it off before quickly changing the subject again. “But hey I _did_ get these new glasses so, uh, that’s pretty cool.” 

Eddie stared back at Richie like he wanted to punch him. Richie could feel the anger radiating from Eddie’s bed, but was surprised when Eddie managed to mask it with a forced half-smile. He shot Richie a _We’re absolutely talking about that later_ look when he finally spoke, “They look nice.” 

A few hours passed when Joey and the same nurse from the previous day returned to Eddie’s door. Their eyes held an understanding and pitiful look when Eddie waved them inside and told them to just get it over with. Richie stayed with Eddie, just as he had the day before, carefully positioned on the side of his bed with his hands latched on to either of Eddie’s shoulders. 

The pain was even worse than the first session. 

Eddie lost a lot of muscle mass laying on that bed for so long, and trying to build them up so quickly wouldn’t be without a great struggle. He was extremely sore from the previous day, so any movement at all had him writhing on the bed and groaning into his pillow. 

It was nearly impossible to watch, and Richie couldn’t even imagine what it was like to endure first-hand. 

By the end, Richie had maneuvered himself so that he sat directly in the center near the top of Eddie’s bed. He sat with one leg bent in front of him and the other stretched off to the side, Eddie’s head resting in his lap. Richie held his grip on Eddie’s shoulders as instructed by Joey, his heart tearing in half when Eddie reached up to grip Richie’s wrists as tightly as he could with each hand. 

Eddie was sobbing by the time they finished the last exercise. 

Joey shot Richie an apologetic glance as she quietly left the room with the nurse right behind her. Once the door clicked shut, Richie stared down at Eddie and was met with an anguish he hadn’t seen before. It wasn’t just physical pain Eddie was feeling, but also the misery of a dilemma inside his head. Despite Eddie’s unwillingness to speak of it, Richie had a feeling he knew what it was when the memory of the man’s first track meet in high school flashed in his mind. 

Richie held him close when Eddie refused to talk, fighting back stinging tears of his own as he helplessly watched Eddie weep onto his leg. 

Myra called about an hour after the physical therapy session, asking to speak to Eddie. She didn’t have his new cell phone number, but persistently called the hospital’s client services desk until they finally patched her through to Eddie’s hall. A nurse with a stoic expression came bearing the portable phone from the nurse’s station.

Richie didn’t want Eddie to take it, knowing it would upset him. Eddie still hadn’t indulged on what their argument entailed, but a few side comments about the ordeal was enough for Richie to know that it’d been pretty ugly. When the others glanced back towards Eddie, however, he waved them all off and said it was fine. Reluctant to oblige to Eddie’s request, Richie sulked into the hallway outside Eddie’s room and shut the door behind him. 

Most of the Losers decided to go for a walk around the hospital, while Richie opted to stay behind. He hung back on the far wall of the hallway at an angle that allowed him to see Eddie’s face if he shifted his weight just the right way. Eddie deserved to have the privacy for this call, but Richie couldn’t help but give in to an instinctual defensive state. The man had already been through enough. He wasn’t about to let Myra bring back the aspects of Eddie’s past that he was so desperate to leave behind. 

So preoccupied with studying Eddie’s expression, Richie didn’t even notice when Patty returned from the restroom and joined him against the wall. “Hey,” She said, letting her weight fall against the wall as she crossed her arms across her chest. 

Richie jumped, hand flying to his chest before he glanced over towards Patty and exhaled. “Hey, sorry,” He breathed, “Didn’t hear you.” 

“It’s okay,” Patty smiled reassuringly. She paused, studying Richie’s face before speaking again, “Are you doing alright? You look upset.”

A heavy sigh fell from Richie’s mouth. “Yeah, I’m fine.” 

Patty shook her head and smirked, “I may not be as good at it as Stan, but I can still tell that you’re lying.” 

Richie huffed an amused breath through his nose, reaching up to rub his eyes underneath his glasses. He never said anything, but he certainly noticed how well Patty was able to read him despite having only seen each other in person for a little over a week’s time total. Must’ve been a Uris thing. “I hate watching him hurt,” Richie admitted quietly, “He doesn’t deserve all this pain.” 

An empathetic smile crossed Patty’s face as she shot a sad smile at Richie. “You wish you could take all his pain and thrust it on yourself, so he doesn’t have to feel any.” 

Heart picking up at those words, Richie shot his head towards Patty with widened eyes. Their expressions locked and never broke as Richie quickly muttered, “Yes.” 

“That’s how I felt, after Stan...” Patty admitted. She raised a comforting hand and placed it on Richie’s upper arm, giving him a reassuring squeeze. “If I’d known what was going through his head that night, I...I just wish I could’ve taken it all away.” 

Richie didn’t answer, but reached up and rested his hand atop hers. 

“I felt so helpless, just like you did,” Patty continued, eyes gleaming at the memory of her husband’s own near-death experience, “I hated sitting there and watching him feel so much pain, knowing there was nothing more I could do.” 

“I’m sorry you had to go through that,” Richie muttered, his gaze still locked on Patty’s, “Sure feels like shit, huh?” 

“Sure does,” Patty nodded as she glanced into Eddie’s room. Richie followed her stare and found Eddie lying on his bed, one hand holding the phone to his ear and the other waving around wildly in the air. There was frustration on his face, but when he looked up and met Richie’s eyes through the glass panel, it all dissipated within seconds. When Richie turned back towards Patty, she was smiling. “You know what I learned, though?” 

Richie tilted his head curiously, “What’s that?” 

“I learned that just… _being_ there with Stan is what he really needed,” Patty said as the gleam in her eyes quickly morphed into tears. “He’d look at me and just the tiniest bit of pain would leave his face. He’d smile again.” 

Throat closing up, Richie listened quietly. 

Noticing the single tear running down Richie’s face, Patty reached up and wiped it away with her thumb. “Eddie looks at you that same way, Richie,” She whispered, her hand gently ghosting over his cheek. “I see it in his eyes every time you walk in the room.” 

A relieved laugh broke through Richie’s lips as he smiled down at Patty. “Really?” 

“Yeah,” Patty nodded, returning a similar smile on her face. “Just make sure he knows you’re there, and it’ll be okay in the end.” 

Richie nodded his head quickly as he pulled Patty into a tight embrace, his heart filling with a new found relief he hadn’t felt since the moment he and Eddie confessed their feelings for each other. It swelled in his chest and spread outwards through his body, letting him finally loosen the tension he hadn’t been able to shake all day. “Thanks, Patty.” 

“Of course, Richie.” 

“And I don’t mean that just for _this_ when I say that,” Richie added, gesturing between him and her after pulling back from their hug. “Stan,” Richie said upon seeing Patty’s confused face, his expression softening. “Thank you for looking out for him, Patty. Just...thanks.” 

Patty smiled. 

Another thirty minutes passed before Eddie finally hung up the phone and tossed it carelessly to the end of his bed. He signaled to the others that they could enter and Richie was back by the side of the bed within five seconds. The rest of the group filed in one-by-one, all crowding around Eddie’s bed with looks of concern plastered on their faces. 

Eddie started out by saying how his conversation with Myra went much better than the first. There was almost no yelling, and they actually stopped to listen to each other rather than constantly yell over each other’s words. He informed the group that she ended up staying in town for the night, wanting to talk to him again before she left. 

Myra was still angry, hurt and confused. 

And from Eddie’s perspective, she had every right to be. He never wanted to hurt her, and never intended to end their relationship so abruptly. But it also wasn’t Eddie’s fault that he was thrown into a fight against a supernatural murderous clown alongside his childhood friends who, upon seeing them, brought back Eddie’s repressed memories and deeply-rooted affection for his best friend who happened to also be a man. 

It wasn’t exactly something Eddie could just drop on her like that. 

Eddie explained to her what he could, leaving out almost all the details of why he went to Derry, what happened, and what triggered his sudden need for a divorce. It took all of twenty minutes to get her to understand that Eddie wasn’t changing his mind and that his decision was final. She apparently tried to convince him he was wrong, that he was still confused and needed her to be safe. 

Eddie turned her down every time, doing a better job of controlling his temper. And according to him, it seemed that Myra finally started to accept the truth towards the end of the call. He apologized to her and made sure she knew that it was never Eddie’s intent to bring her pain. She answered by asking for his new phone number to stay in contact until they both had lawyers they could direct information through. They agreed to go through with the divorce over long-distance due to Eddie’s condition and Myra’s work schedule. 

And then he hung up. 

After getting back to the hotel that night, Richie cornered Bill in his and Mike’s room and shut the door behind him. Bill sighed, running a hand over his face as he sat on the edge of his unkempt bed. “Did something happen with Audra I don’t know about?” Richie asked, arms crossed as he stood above Bill. 

Bill glared at him. 

Yikes, alright. No time for jokes. 

“Come on, man,” Richie said, trying to reason with his friend, “I’m pretty sure I wasn’t the only one who noticed how weird you were acting earlier, people are gonna come asking sooner or later.” 

“Fine,” Bill sighed, standing up to meet Richie’s gaze. “She called me early this morning, before anyone else w-was awake.” 

Richie stared at him expectantly. 

“She wants to talk,” Bill added after realizing Richie was waiting for him to elaborate. 

“Talk about…?” Richie started, turning his hand and wrist in a circular motion to get more details out of Bill. 

“That’s the thing,” Bill said. He threw his hands in the air in a helpless gesture, shaking his head back and forth as he spoke, “I don’t know, she wouldn’t say.” 

Richie nodded, processing the situation. He took a few steps back and placed his hands on his hips. “So this could be good or bad then, right? Did she say when?” 

“In person, whenever I get back,” Bill answered with a frustrated shrug. 

“Okay, alright,” Richie said as he nodded again. He shifted his weight back and forth on his feet as he propped an elbow on top of his other arm against his chest, bringing a hand to his chin. “So I guess a good thing to ask is what do _you_ want to happen here?” 

Richie knew how often Bill and Audra clashed leading up to the events that left Audra walking out the front door with a small bag of her things. He hadn’t been there for all of it, but Richie witnessed enough first-hand to know that a large majority of their issues were related to communication. And that, without question, was _not_ an area of expertise for Richie by any means. He couldn’t even tell his childhood crush how he felt until he was fucking forty. 

“...I don’t know, Rich,” A heavy sigh fell from Bill’s mouth, “So much has happened the last few months I can barely keep up.” 

Richie let out a dry laugh. “Yeah, you’re definitely not wrong about that.” 

“B-but I think I _do_ want it to work,” Bill added, his eyes unfocused as he appeared to be staring at nothing, “I just don’t know how we’d even try to g-get there.”

“I mean, I don’t really have a lot of experience in this kind of stuff,” Richie admitted with another half-smile and a truthful shrug. He was never the best at giving relationship advice, but after spending as much time as he did living in close quarters with Bill and Audra, Richie had a pretty clear grasp on the situation. After everything Bill and the others did for him at his lowest points, Richie just wanted to help his friends in any way he could. “I’d just give it some time, I guess. Make sure you’re both talking about everything you think you need to, and if you’re not sure you can do that alone then do it in therapy.”

“Therapy?” Bill questioned, raising his eyebrows in surprise. 

“Yeah, don’t they do, like, couples therapy and shit?” Richie asked as Bill stared back at him helplessly. Exhaling at the sight, Richie ran a hand through his hair in hesitation. He didn’t want to say anything yet, but if meant helping Bill with his decision then fuck it. Richie’s eyes drifted awkwardly around the room before adding, “I already started looking for Eds and me.” 

“Really?” Bill asked, not bothering to hide the shock in his face as he leaned forward in interest. “You being serious?” 

“Serious as dicks,” Richie added with an empathetic smile, “Not for couple stuff, though. Just for...everything else. We went through some pretty fucked up shit, man.” 

Bill studied Richie’s face for a long time, searching for any hint of a lie or mockery. His expression softened when he presumably found none. The look in his eyes, however, only made it seem like he was even more lost than he was before their conversation. “Yeah,” He breathed, “Maybe…” 

“Look, what I’m trying to say is to just not rush into making any rash decisions,” Richie offered with another shrug. He could tell that Bill was starting to space out and needed some time alone to think about what he’d just said. When Bill gave him a small nod, Richie offered a small half-smile and a pat on the shoulder before heading for the door. 

“Hey Richie?”

“Hm?”

“Don’t tell anyone about this,” Bill said, his tone making it sound more like a question than an order, “Not yet.” 

Richie sighed and threw him a bothered expression. 

“Please?” Bill asked again, a new look in his eyes that held both sorrow and desperation. For a moment, Richie thought he even saw a flicker of hope in there as well. Richie hesitantly nodded before heading back towards the door, Bill’s voice filling the room once more as he turned the handle. “Thanks, Rich.” 

Bill’s gratitude was genuine, and as Richie passed through the door he could hear the same words Beverly once spoke to him at the hospital all those months ago. 

_You know you can talk to me, right? I’m here for you._

Richie needed Bill to know that they were all there for him, too, whether he wanted them to be or not. There were certainly days when Richie wanted nothing to do with them, preferring to hole up inside his own head and slowly tear himself apart. He of all people knew how destructive that could be and didn’t want Bill to go through the same. 

“We’re here for you Billiam, when you’re ready.” 

The third day brought affection. 

“ _FUCK!_ ” Eddie cried out as he writhed on the bed, Joey’s hands locked on his outstretched leg. 

“Almost done, Eddie,” Joey replied firmly, her stare intense and locked on Eddie’s face as she carefully maneuvered his leg. “Just a few more.” 

Eddie nodded from where he rested his head on Richie’s thigh, tightly gripping one of Richie’s hands in both his own. Tears streaked down his face in a steady flow, and it took every bit of strength Richie had not to reach down and wipe them away. His hand not being held by Eddie was busy holding his shoulder down onto the bed. A shiver ran down his body at the sound of the broken, shaky breath that left Eddie’s mouth as Joey and the nurse placed his legs back on the bed. 

“Okay, all done,” Joey said as she tossed her gloves into one of the bins beside the bed. “I’ll be back to check on you during evening rounds, alright?” 

All Eddie could bring himself to do was nod again as he buried his face even deeper. 

The gesture made him look like a kid again. 

Joey’s gaze then flicked towards Richie before offering him a pitiful but knowing look. “Make sure he’s drinking enough water,” She said to Richie before opening the door and letting the nurse leave before her. Joey followed suit, but not until after Richie gave her a reassuring nod that he heard her. When the door clicked shut, Richie turned his attention back to the crying man in his arms. 

“You did so great, Eddie,” Richie said softly as he leaned down to brush the few loose strands of hair out of Eddie’s face. Another piece of Richie’s heart shattered when Eddie didn’t respond, his eyes forward and body still trembling. “You wanna sit up?” 

A pause. 

“Okay,” Eddie muttered as his voice cracked under his breath. Slowly, he lifted his head and let Richie slide out from under him. The man stared in silence as Richie flipped a button on the bed to shift the top portion to a steeper angle. Within seconds, Richie was back on the bed and scooting up next to Eddie, who immediately curled up on top of Richie’s chest. Richie wrapped a comforting arm around his shoulders and held him close, only to face another wave of grief when Eddie spoke again. “It fucking hurts, Rich.” 

“I know, Spaghetti,” Richie breathed, leaning down to press a kiss on the top of Eddie’s head. That same feeling, the one Patty so perfectly put into words, swelled in his chest and threatened to overwhelm him. But repeating her words in his head eventually calmed the growing storm enough to pull Richie back to the present. 

_Just make sure he knows you’re there, and it’ll be okay in the end._

Richie pulled Eddie even closer, running his hand up and down along the side of Eddie’s arm. “But that’s good if it hurts,” Richie added quietly, “If it hurts it means you can still feel those parts of your legs, and that means you’re building muscle.” 

Another pause. 

“Yeah,” Eddie sighed, exhaling deeply against Richie’s shirt. “I guess.” 

Richie flinched at the tone of Eddie’s voice, taken aback by the darkness laced within it. There was something different about Eddie’s demeanor all morning, and Richie couldn’t figure out what it was until this moment. Richie was all too familiar with the notion. The fleeting hope that Eddie would survive his injuries, and once he did, the crushing reality that he may never have woken up again. 

Eddie feared he’d never improve. 

“Eddie,” Richie said, his expression growing more serious. He gave the man an encouraging pat on the shoulder as he spoke again, “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.” 

“Bullshit, Eds. What’s wrong?” 

“You calling me Eds,” Eddie replied with a muffled voice, “ _That’s_ what’s wrong.” 

“Oh, _clever girl_ ,” Richie replied in a voice almost identical to the original speaker of the line. Jurassic Park had always been one of their favorites to watch together in high school, mostly because Eddie’s mom wouldn’t let him see it. Richie always welcomed a new excuse to invite Eddie over to his house to hang out. 

A wave of relief poured through Richie when he saw a small smile break onto Eddie’s face. He’d started doing voices again ever since Eddie woke up, knowing just how to make Eddie smile whenever he was feeling down. “Now, are you gonna tell me what’s wrong?” Richie asked before switching to another voice from the movie, “And if you say ‘nothing’ again I’ll know _that’s one big pile of shit_.” 

Eddie sighed, the tension on his face fading away as he lifted his head to meet Richie’s gaze. “Rich,” He breathed, “What if don’t gain any more feeling in my legs?” 

There it was, the feeling Richie so greatly dreaded. 

Richie acted quickly to pull everything he wanted to say into the forefront of his mind. He had to make sure he did everything in his power to prevent Eddie from going through the same things he did. Richie learned a great amount from his mistakes and wasn’t about to let Eddie stumble down the same dark path. Richie raised a hand to run through the man’s hair in a comforting gesture, “It’s only been three days, these things take time.” 

“Yeah, I know, dipshit,” Eddie said with a roll of his eyes, “But what happens if I go through all of this and I _still_ can’t feel anything else?” 

Silence. 

“...What if I never walk again?” Eddie asked, eyes widening and gleaming with fresh tears. 

Richie’s stomach dropped at the sight, but he did his best to maintain a comforting expression. “We’ve gotten this far, haven’t we? I’m almost convinced you could survive _anything_ at this point.” 

Eddie blinked in surprise. “But what if I can’t-” 

“Doesn’t matter,” Richie said quickly, reaching outwards to cup Eddie’s face in his hands, “Not being able to walk doesn’t make you any less of a person, you know that, right?” 

“I…” Eddie started. 

Just tell him, Richie, Eddie had to know. 

“Every second with you is a gift, Eddie, my love,” Richie nearly whispered as fresh tears spilled from the corners of his eyes. He loved Eddie more than anything in this world and nothing would ever change that. Whatever future they had in store for them certainly wouldn’t be without obstacles, but Richie was ready to face them all so long as Eddie was with him. “Whether that be walking side-by-side or me giving you a helping push on a wheelchair. Just to have you with me after everything that’s happened to us is the greatest priveledge I’ve ever had in my stupid life.” 

“Rich…” Eddie breathed as his eyes grew wide with shock. 

Eddie had to know every last bit of it. 

“No matter what happens, your recovery is gonna be long and probably pretty shitty,” Richie admitted, a choked laugh escaping his lips when he met Eddie’s growing smile, “But I know you’ll be okay in the end because you’re so damn strong, Eddie Kaspbrak, and I love you so much.” 

Tears now spilled down Eddie’s face, but Richie quickly wiped them away with his thumbs. Instant relief flooded through him when Eddie pulled himself closer towards Richie and rested their foreheads together. 

“I love you too, Richie.” 

The physical therapy session had been much earlier that day, so the group was able to return after lunch. While Richie was able to calm Eddie down, and himself for that matter, Richie could tell the others saw a change in Eddie’s expression. It wasn’t as prominent as before, and Richie desperately hoped it was because some of his words had gotten through to him that morning. But as the day drifted into the afternoon, Eddie still remained more quiet than he had the previous days. 

It was Stanley who had the idea to distract Eddie with something he knew would lift the man’s spirits. He of all people knew what it was like to stay in a hospital bed for so long, feeling trapped and without an escape. 

“Hey Eddie,” Stanley said from his seat beside the bed, the edges of his mouth slowly curving upwards into a small smile. 

“Yeah?” Eddie asked as he was finally pulled back to the present from his ever-deepening thoughts. 

“You ever use that TV up there?” Stanley asked, raising a hand to point towards the small, mounted screen in the corner of the room. When Eddie shook his head, Stanley reached for the remote and flipped in on quickly. Beverly and Mike giggled from where they sat together on the small couch when Stanely pulled up the log-in page for Netflix. 

Richie, who’d been preoccupied with his hand as it ran through Eddie’s hair, glanced up from the bed as the sound. He spotted the television screen almost immediately before shooting a glare at Stanley from where he laid on Eddie’s bed. “You little _shit_.” 

“What?” Eddie asked innocently as Stanley threw Richie a devious grin. 

“Don’t worry, Eddie,” Stanley said as the homescreen loaded and he began to scroll down to the Comedy category. “You’re gonna love this.” 

“This is perfect,” Bill added with a smirk, “R-richie wouldn’t let us watch them back at my place.” 

Richie groaned and let himself sink down on the bed until his head was level with Eddie’s shoulder before shifting onto his side and burying his face against the pillow. He could hear Eddie gasp in realization right before Stanley hit the start button. “Why didn’t you tell me about these, Rich?!” Eddie asked in an excited voice. 

The elated sound in Eddie’s tone was enough to lift Richie’s growing dread. If this really did make Eddie happy, then he _supposed_ he could sit through it. Damn, the things Richie did for this man. “I poured my fucking _heart_ out to you earlier, and this is how you repay me?” Richie asked, his voice only semi-serious. 

Eddie laughed, acknowledging Richie’s comment with a ruffle of his hair and an arm wrapped tightly around his back. The hand grasping Richie’s back was the only thing that grounded him when he suddenly heard his voice coming through the television speakers. 

_”Hey! Alright, how’s everyone doing tonight?”_

“Hey Stan, turn it up,” Eddie remarked with a laugh, tightening his grasp on Richie. Jesus, Eddie was so fucking lucky Richie loved him as much as he did. If that were anyone else, he would’ve punched them in the face. 

_”So I was at one of the bars downtown last night, and this girl, she came up to me and-”_

Richie cringed further into Eddie’s hold when he recognized the sketch, singling out Eddie’s laugh out of everyone else's and focusing on that. 

It was gonna be a long afternoon. 

A few hours passed by the time the group finished binging all of Richie’s specials in one go. They’d laughed quite a bit, to Richie’s shock, but he couldn’t tell how much of it was because the jokes were funny or because they were just that terrible. Richie assumed it was mostly the latter case despite the Losers’ claims that they all enjoyed them...except Mike and Ben. Those two were far too kind to be able to lie about something like that, so Richie knew that when they said they enjoyed it, it was the truth. 

With two hours left until visiting hours were over, Richie stepped out into the hallway and quickly tapped away on his phone.

**Trashmouth (Me!):**  
hey you got the stuff

**Stanford Urine:**  
Why so vague? This isn’t a drug deal.

 **Stanford Urine:**  
But yes.

**Trashmouth (Me!):**  
okay i’ll meet you downstairs

Shoving his phone in his pocket, Richie made his way downstairs to the lobby and quickly spotted Stanley at the door. In his arms sat a small cardboard box, which Richie gladly accepted. “Thanks for the help, Stan the Man,” Richie said with a smile as the pair turned to make their way back towards Eddie’s room.

“Of course,” Stanley said, shooting an amused smile back towards his friend. “I probably owe it to you after putting you through all those hours of torture.” 

“Fuck _yeah_ , you owe me,” Richie snapped a bit louder he’d intended before lowering his voice to add a quick, “Asshole.” 

“You gotta admit, though, it cheered him up,” Stanley said with a raised eyebrow and arms lifted in a blameless gesture. 

Richie sighed exaggeratedly. “Yeah, it did.” 

A minute of silence passed before Stanley spoke again. 

“All jokes aside, you doing alright Richie?” Stanley asked, a sincere expression taking over his eyes, “I’ve been keeping a close eye on you since you sent me those texts a few weeks ago, you had me and Patty worried…”

Oh, right. 

Richie had completely forgotten about those messages. They felt like an entire lifetime ago. He still couldn’t wrap his head around the fact that Eddie had only been awake for a few days, and that a week ago at this time Richie was an emotional mess and a half. A cold chill crawled down Richie’s back at the memory and he shoved them away. 

“Yeah,” Richie half-smiled back, his expression tired but genuine. He really meant it, too. 

“That’s good to hear, buddy,” Stanley replied as he reached up to pat Richie’s back a few times. He shot a glance down at the box Richie carried, another warm smile appearing on his face. “I’m so happy for you.” 

Richie stared at his friend, his grateful and elated expression saying more than words ever could. “And I’m just really glad you’re here, man. You doing alright, too?”

“Me too, Rich,” Stanley glanced back at him, nodding slowly. Richie had never seen such a relieved faith in the man’s eyes before now. “And yeah...I think I am.” 

The pair stopped when they reached the door to Eddie’s room. Richie waited out in the hallway, still holding the cardboard box, as he watched Stanley slip inside and say something to everyone else. All heads turned to him, each of them wearing a knowing smile as they stood and made their way towards the door. Except Eddie, of course. The poor guy sat there looking more confused than ever. 

Beverly was the first out of the room. She bolted up to Richie with a wide smile on her face, pulling him down to her level to give him a kiss on the cheek. “Good luck, sweetheart,” Beverly winked before falling back in step with Ben, who gave Richie a smile and a thumbs-up. 

Mike and Patty came up next, both of them trying their best to give Richie a one-armed hug and more wishes of good luck. Bill followed closely behind, who stepped up towards Richie with both hands awkwardly stuffed in his jean pockets. His gaze flicked up to Richie’s hair, which he quickly reached up and re-styled with his hands.

“Christ, _mom_ ,” Richie laughed as Bill moved down to adjust his glasses and straighten his shirt. Bill rolled his eyes and laughed with him, stepping back and taking in Richie’s slightly neater look. He shot Richie an expression full of so much emotion that he could barely contain it. 

“Go get him,” Bill half-smiled, his eyes gleaming with pride as he turned to see Stanley closing Eddie’s door behind him. The pair watched Stanley approach, a sly smile growing on his face. 

“You better get in there, Rich,” Stanley chuckled, “Eddie’s got no _clue_ what’s going on and he’s kinda freaking out.” 

With one final smile towards his friends, Richie was left alone outside Eddie’s room. It wasn’t until he made for the door did he notice how quickly his heart raced in his chest, or how sweaty his hands were. 

Pull yourself together, Tozier. 

For fuck’s sake. 

Exhaling, Richie threw caution to the wind and let himself in to Eddie’s room. He shut the door behind him and quickly walked over towards where Eddie laid in deep confusion. “Richie?” Eddie asked, eyeing the box he carried, “What’s going on? Why did everyone leave?” 

Richie didn’t stop to explain, however, as he set down the box on an empty chair. He quickly stepped up towards the bed and adjusted the overhanging side table so that the surface rest right in front of Eddie. “Hey,” Richie said, completely ignoring the bemused expression on Eddie’s face, “Turn on that lamp, would you?” 

Eddie shot him a strange look but quietly obliged as Richie shuffled over towards the door and switched off the overhead lights to the room. The soft, golden glow from the bedside lamp filled the room with a warm light. In seconds, Richie was back at the bed and pulling up a new chair in front of the side table. Once seated, Richie reached over and moved the box from the adjacent chair to the floor, digging through its contents. 

“Uh, Rich?” Eddie asked again, trying to lean over the sidetable to catch a glimpse of what Richie was fumbling with. “The fuck is going on?” 

Richie let out a heavy breath as he finally stilled, clasping something under the table that Eddie couldn’t see. He turned towards Eddie and grinned widely, desperately trying to mask how nervous he actually was. It suddenly came crashing down on him that he’d been waiting nearly _thirty_ years for this moment. A dream Richie never thought he’d live to see. “Well, seeing that you still owe me a date but can’t really leave for one,” Richie breathed, meeting Eddie’s perplexed gaze, “I decided to bring the date to you.” 

Eddie gaped as Richie lifted his hands from under the table to reveal the small make-shift tablecloth he’d been hiding, throwing it in the air and letting it slowly fall onto the table. Richie could barely breathe as his nerves grew even worse, but the slight blush appearing on Eddie’s cheeks was enough to wipe it all away. 

Shaking with excitement, Richie reached into the box again and pulled out a small vase of roses and a candle. “Don’t worry,” Richie smirked as he turned the candle in his hands and flipped an On switch, “It’s fake, no open flames in your _very_ flammable hospital room. Not that we even need it, though. It’s already hot enough with _you_ in here.” 

“Christ, Rich,” The embarrassed chuckle that left Eddie’s mouth swept Richie off his feet right then and there. No matter how many times Richie heard it, Eddie’s laugh made his heart swell. The pounding exhilaration in Richie’s chest grew even stronger when he looked up and gave Eddie a wink, only to have the man’s blush deepen as he buried his face in his hands. 

Richie beamed at the sight, reaching down into the box to grab two to-go boxes, napkins, two sets of plastic silverware, and two bottles of water. No alcohol allowed in the hospital either, for obvious reasons. By the time Richie placed them on the table, Eddie’s hand had drifted down a bit so he could see yet still covered his mouth. His eyes were wide and glistening under the light of the lamp and the flickering candle, and _damn_. Richie could stare at him like this forever. 

With one final swipe of his hand into the box, Richie pulled out a cheap black tie and tied it around his neck. It probably looked ridiculous over his plain white t-shirt, but the laugh it drew from Eddie was more than enough for him to leave it on. Eddie shook his head in disbelief as his hand finally fell from his face to reveal the widest of grins. His mouth hung open slightly as he took in the scene before him, eyebrows raised in complete surprise. “Wow,” He laughed again, “I never took you for the romantic type.” 

“Only for you, Eddie, my love,” Richie mused, completely absorbed in Eddie’s smile. Standing from his chair, Richie reached over towards Eddie’s side of the table and made to open his to-go container. “You haven’t even seen the best part.” 

Eddie’s eyes fell to the box of food in front of him, bursting out into laughter when Richie lifted the lid to reveal their meal of nothing other than spaghetti and meatballs. “Oh my god,” Eddie breathed in an amused voice, “You’re such a fucking dork.” 

“Only the _best_ spaghetti for my dearest Eddie Spaghetti,” Richie remarked, making to sit back down in his chair. 

He was stopped, however, when Eddie’s hand shot up and grabbed Richie’s tie. Before Richie could react, Eddie had the man pulled down to his level and sealed their lips in a chaste kiss. And by the time they pulled away, it was Richie who was blushing. Eddie giggled at the sight as he spoke with glittering eyes, “Thank you for this, Rich. I really love it.” 

Holy fucking _shit._

That may or may not have been the hottest thing Eddie has ever done. 

Richie tried to respond, but all he could manage was a flustered chuckle, which only made Eddie’s amused grin widen even further. They fell into another fit of laughter and never fully left it for the remainder of the night, too caught up in their lovestruck stares to pay attention to anything else. That night, while laying in bed, Richie heard his phone buzz on the nightstand and quickly made to grab it.

 **Edward Spaghettward:**  
<3

Richie was fairly certain he hit a new low when he teared up at the sight of the single emoji Eddie sent him on his phone. Nobody needed to know that, though. He’d gladly keep that fact to himself.

**Trashmouth (Me!):**  
<3

The fourth day brought strength.

After returning to the hotel the previous night, Richie was met with six anxious faces that were eagerly awaiting his arrival. Within minutes of walking in the door, the group had Richie planted in the common area of their suite as they stared at him with enraptured eyes. They asked about nearly every detail of Richie’s date, including how it went, how the food was, what Eddie thought, how Eddie reacted, and what they talked about. 

Richie’s stomach gave a nervous flutter as he spoke, his heart jumping every time he said Eddie’s name aloud. He felt like a teenager again, but he guessed it wasn’t that surprising. With his situation, Richie never went on dates until he was well into college. And because of that, he never had the opportunity to run back to his friends afterwards and tell them how it all went. 

It was the first time Richie had ever done something like this with the Losers, and the first time he’d ever spoke of such things since the day he finally came out to them. Wow, did it feel so fucking incredible to speak so freely and openly about something so personal to him. And to have all of his closest friends not only listening, but blindly supporting and encouraging him all while giving him the most genuine smiles? It nearly brought Richie to tears. 

When they arrived at the hospital the following morning, Beverly pulled the group aside in the lobby and asked if she could speak with Eddie privately. There were things she needed to tell him, she said, things that Eddie had to hear from her. The group obliged without question before Beverly shot them a look of thanks and headed upstairs. 

Their talk lasted well over an hour, and probably would’ve gone even longer if they didn’t have to stop for Eddie’s physical therapy. Richie stayed downstairs in the lobby for most of it, but made his way towards Eddie’s room when the time for the session drew near. When he peeked in through the glass panel of Eddie’s door, Richie found Beverly sitting on the edge of a seat beside Eddie’s bed. She held one of his hands tightly in her own, squeezing it firmly. 

They were both crying. 

Their tears weren’t of sadness, though, for they were also smiling. Richie later learned that they’d spoken of the parental abuse they’d faced as both children and adults, which was something Eddie said they often did in their youth. Eddie didn’t elaborate on much else, and Richie didn’t push him to. From what Richie saw, it was a very private and intimate conversation that he knew he had no part in. All Richie cared about was the sake of his friends, and he was relieved to see the new glisten in their eyes following their talk. 

It was an expression of determined, unwavering strength. 

And that strength continued to show during Eddie’s physical therapy. To Richie’s relief, the man he held in his arms still wore that same look of tenacity as Joey and the nurse maneuvered his legs in the same patterns as the previous days. He barely cried out that time, only shedding a few silent tears by the time they reached the end of the exercise. 

It was early afternoon by the time everyone crowded back into Eddie’s room once again. They’d hit a lull in their conversation, most of the group checking their phones, reading books, or simply staring out the window at the sky through the thinning red tree. Richie sat beside Eddie’s bed, one arm resting against the mattress and propping his head up. He scrolled through his phone, having not checked his social media for the past few days. 

Richie was about to close the app when he saw his own name fly by as his scrolled through his feed. His stomach dropped when he slowly panned back to find yet another article written about him. This one, however, was just published a little over an hour ago and featured a blurred photo of him in the hospital’s lobby. It was in that moment that Richie recalled the strange flash he thought he saw just a few days prior. 

**_Comedian Richie Tozier Spotted in Maine Hospital: Is His Denial of Drug Abuse Actually True?_ **

“Rich,” Beverly breathed just as Richie tapped the article, staring down at her phone with widening eyes. 

“Yeah, yeah,” Richie waved her off, quickly scrolling through the few short paragraphs which mostly speculated on why he was at a hospital and how it could possibly connect to the breakdown he had onstage all those months ago. “I fucking saw it.” 

“What?” Mike asked from where he sat beside Ben. He probably had the least presence on the internet, and probably would have never heard of the article if the others weren’t there to inform him. 

“What is it?” Patty asked from beside Mike, sharing an equally concerned look with the man. 

“Nothing,” Richie snapped quickly, harshly shoving his phone back into his pocket. His face must’ve flushed with frustration, however, for Eddie now stared at him with a very concerned expression. 

“What’s wrong?” Eddie asked in a serious tone, his gaze not leaving Richie’s. 

“More articles about Richie,” Beverly answered, not flinching when Richie shot her an angered look. She stared back, her eyes just as intense, until Richie’s head fell with a groan. 

“What are they s-saying now?” Bill asked nervously, almost certainly remembering the last time this happened while at his house with Richie. 

“Bev, it’s fine-” Richie started, but Beverly cut him off. 

“Someone took a picture of him here, they think it’s connected to the drug accusations,” Beverly said, ignoring Richie’s comments. 

“Wow,” Stanley groaned, exaggeratedly shaking his head in disbelief. 

“What?!” Eddie exclaimed, swatting Richie’s shoulder for trying to hide that information from the rest of them. “Are you serious?” 

Beverly and Richie both nodded. 

“This is such bullshit!” Eddie snapped, eyes growing wide with anger. “They were already way out-of-line with everything they were saying after your show that night. Like I realize you can’t just go out and explain how you received a call just minutes prior from your childhood friend who asked you to come fight a killer clown, and by doing so triggering all those repressed memories of said killer clown in the hometown you completely forgot about, but-”

Richie blinked in surprise as he sat up straight in his chair, transfixed with Eddie’s sudden outburst. Eddie must’ve really done some thorough research in his free time, because it certainly wasn’t Richie who told him any of that. 

“Still! They had no evidence and were just pulling all those accusations from their asses, and then they went and did the same thing when somebody took a picture of you in that parking lot by Bill’s house? How the fuck could anyone possibly deduct what you were doing from a single photograph, which was a super shitty quality and nearly impossible to make out, might I add-”

...Holy shit. 

This Eddie. 

This overly-defensive, hyperactive motormouth right here. _He_ was the one Richie first fell for, the one that made him fall into the most lovestruck crush he’d ever had. 

Nothing had changed...still pretty small, and still pretty angry. 

Still just as magnificent.

“And now they just keep trying to make something out of nothing after you _specifically_ denied the accusations online! Like how desperate could these assholes possibly be for a story on this when there isn’t one to begin with?! You gotta do something about this, Rich, you can’t just let them keep-” 

“Hey, hey,” Richie smiled, relishing in the sight of Eddie getting so defensive over him, “Slow down there a bit, Eds.” 

“Are you _smiling_ right now? What the fuck is funny about this, Richie? I-” 

“Nothing,” Richie chuckled, trying to wipe the smile off his face, “Just making sure you’re leaving some room to breathe.” 

Eddie huffed an annoyed sigh, realizing Richie was right when he found himself just the slightest bit out of breath. “Okay,” Eddie said after taking a moment to calm down, “You gotta do something, Richie. You can’t just let this blow up like last time.” 

“What else can I do?” Richie shrugged helplessly, “I already denied it and that didn’t work.” 

“Let me help,” Beverly interjected without hesitation, a pleading look in her eyes. She elaborated when Richie shot her a blank stare. “They’re clearly not listening to you, so maybe they’ll listen to me.” 

“No, Bevvie,” Richie shook his head and lifted a hand in the air to pass on the offer. He knew she was a fairly larger influencer after scrolling through her profile the other day, but she had absolutely no reason to get involved. “Don’t get yourself sucked into this mess.” 

“Too late, Rich, I’ve already decided,” Beverly said, an empathetic but determined smile growing on her face. She stood from her seat, grabbing Richie by the wrist and pulling him towards the door. “Ben, honey, come with us.”

Seconds later, the trio stood in the hallway, both Ben and Richie staring in bewilderment as Beverly walked over and stood in front of a blank wall. After a quick toss of her hair and a check to make sure her shirt wasn’t wrinkled, Beverly beckoned Richie over to join her. Frowning, Richie strode over and found himself being positioned in front of the wall by Beverly. She shot him a devious smirk before stepping between Richie and a very confused Ben. 

Richie blinked when Beverly faced him and held up two middle fingers, gesturing with a glance towards Richie’s hands for him to do the same. A surprised laugh escaped Richie’s mouth as he mirrored Beverly’s pose. She winked at Richie, telling him to raise his arms a bit higher before turning around to face Ben. “Okay,” Beverly smiled towards Ben, “We’re ready.” 

Ben smirked, shaking his head as he lifted the phone and snapped a few photos. Once Beverly ran over and flipped through the bunch, she gave them a thumbs-up to return to Eddie’s room. Ben entered first, with Richie following close behind. Richie stopped, however, when he reached the doorway to give Beverly a high-five on his way in. She laughed as he did, closing the door behind her once inside. 

Miss January embers still had that spark, no doubt about it. 

Richie could see the tension leave Eddie’s face when he spotted Richie’s smile. His gaze shot between the trio’s eyes as he eagerly waited to see what they’d done. Stanley, Patty, Mike, and Bill all watched from the other side of the room, similar expressions on their faces. “Give me a sec,” Beverly chuckled upon seeing everyone’s faces on hers. She opened her Twitter app, typed up a short message, and hit send in less than a minute. “Okay, it’s up.” 

Pulling out his phone, Richie angled the screen so that both he and Eddie could see. Eddie wasn’t big on social media either, though Richie already had top secret plans of convincing him to join Twitter. But that was for another time. Opening his app, Richie searched for Beverly’s profile and scrolled down to the most recent post. He laughed when he caught sight of the final product.

> **Beverly** _@BeverlyMarsh_  
>  [Image.071]  
>  You wanna get to @TrashmouthTozier? You gotta go through me first. 

Richie liked the tweet, shooting Beverly a look of immense gratitude as the other’s voices seemed to blur around him. “Thanks, Bevvie.”

Beverly beamed back, overjoyed she’d finally found a way to lend a hand. Richie certainly wasn’t the only one sitting on the sidelines, growing restless as he watched Eddie go through so much without being able to share the load. 

Richie stayed off of social media for the remainder of the night. He trusted Beverly and the others to tell him if anything _really_ bad happened, which he doubted it would. Sleep almost found him when his phone beeped from the nightstand. 

**Edward Spaghettward:**  
Are you okay

**Trashmouth (Me!):**  
yeah

**Edward Spaghettward:**  
If anyone says stuff like that about you again I’m gonna kick their ass

**Trashmouth (Me!):**  
aw!!!!!!!!!!!!! 

**Edward Spaghettward:**  
I’m serious dude

**Trashmouth (Me!):**  
oh i don’t doubt it

**Edward Spaghettward:**  
Good

**Trashmouth (Me!):**  
<3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3

**Trashmouth (Me!):**  
love you spaghetti

**Edward Spaghettward:**  
I love you too

The fifth day brought the farewells.

Richie rode in the passenger seat of Mike’s rental car on the way to the hospital that morning. They dropped those who sat in the backseat off at the front door, but Richie opted to stay with Mike and park the car. “What time are you guys leaving?” Richie asked as Mike switched off the ignition and pocketed the keys. 

“By lunch, probably,” Mike replied after getting out of the car. He booked tickets on the same flight as Stanley and Patty, figuring they could fly down to Georgia together and then go their separate ways once they landed. “Hey Rich?” 

“Hm?” Richie hummed, hands shoved in his jacket pockets as he walked against the brisk morning chill. 

“I never got to tell you, but I wanted you to know I’m really proud of you,” Mike said from beside Richie. 

Richie smiled up at him. Hearing those words from his friends meant more to him than anything, and to feel the genuine tone of their voices gave Richie a rush like no other. Was this what it felt like to accept yourself? If it was, it felt pretty damn amazing. “Thanks Mike.” 

“I’m sorry about all that time you lost with him,” Mike uttered quietly, his head hanging down a bit. Richie could _feel_ the guilt in his voice. Their last time here, Mike explained how he never contacted the other Losers from Derry because he didn’t want to bring back the trauma they’d faced as children before he had to. It seemed like Mike was questioning that decision now that he knew about Richie and Eddie. 

Richie had to make sure Mike knew it wasn’t his fault. If anything, it was actually quite the opposite. 

“Me too, man,” A sigh fell from Richie’s lips as his pace slowed a bit. “But there’s nothing you can do to change the past. What’s done is done.” 

Mike didn’t respond. 

“Listen, Mike,” Richie breathed, stepping onto the sidewalk that led to the front entrance of the hospital’s lobby, “I know the whole clown thing sucked major ass, and I mean _major_ ass. We almost lost some people. But you know what?” 

Frowning, Mike turned to look back at Richie. “What?” 

“You’re the reason I found him again,” Richie admitted with a bittersweet half-smile. The anguish in his eyes was undoubtedly present, but there was a grateful gleam as well. “If you left Derry and forgot everything just like the rest of us, I never would’ve seen any of you again. I never would’ve had the chance to tell him.” 

Mike stopped in his tracks, staring back at Richie with wide eyes as they welled with fresh tears. 

“Thank you, Mike,” Richie said assuringly, reaching out to pull his friend into a warm embrace. He could feel a few hot tears on the side of his face and neck, but Richie made no mention of it. Neither of them moved for a long time, seemingly unbothered by the chilling breeze that swept along the ground. 

Lunch came all too quickly, and it was time for Mike, Stanley and Patty to take their leave. Their goodbyes were long and outstretched, but full of love and hope for a brighter future. Richie’s farewell to Mike was quicker than the other’s, after the talk they had earlier that morning. Stanley’s, however, proved much more difficult. Richie didn’t know where he’d be without him, and he wasn’t too keen on ever finding out. 

The two hugged for a long time, pulling apart just enough to look each other in the eyes. Stanley shot him a warm smile and a genuinely relieved expression that said _It’s gonna be okay now, Richie._

Richie stared back and saw the same sorrow he was feeling reflected back at him through Stanley’s eyes. They’d both been through so much, facing the same yet different demons ever since they were children. But finally, after so many years of anguish, the worst was truly behind them. A small, tired smile crept onto Richie’s face. _More than okay, I think._

Patty was last to say her goodbyes to Richie, pulling the man in tight and wrapping her arms around his shoulders. “If you ever need us,” She said quietly enough so the others couldn’t hear, “We’ll be there. Remember that, Richie.” 

_Just make sure he knows you’re there, and it’ll be okay in the end._

Richie pulled away, blinking back tears as he recalled her words to him just a few days prior. “I will,” He smiled, letting her go. 

But instead of walking out the door, Patty strolled over towards the counter and opened one of its cupboards. She carefully pulled out a large brown bag and placed it on the floor to examine its contents. 

“What’s this?” Beverly smiled, crossing her arms as she took a step towards the bag with curiosity.

“Just a small gift,” Patty winked as she pulled out a stack of flat, rectangular gifts wrapped individually in brown paper. Each of their names were written on the top with black marker, and Patty quickly passed them out to each respective Loser. “Go ahead,” She laughed when everyone just held the parcels in their hands, “Open them!” 

Richie and the others tore at the paper, letting it slide off the gift and fall to the floor. The object was heavy and metal, and Richie quickly identified it as some kind of frame. It took him a second to realize it was folded into multiple sections. Once he finally managed to get it open, Richie’s jaw dropped as he stared down in awe. 

Patty had bought him a tri-fold picture frame, each third containing a different photo she or someone else had taken during their short few days here. The far left side was the picture Beverly took of Richie and Eddie asleep on the bed, wrapped in each other’s arms. The center photo was from their very first reunion of all seven Losers, a moment that so greatly resembled the blood oath they made as children with their arms all wrapped around each other. On the far right was a photo Richie didn’t even know existed, which featured him down on one knee, presenting a ring pop to a grinning Eddie. 

Tears filled Richie’s eyes as he took the whole thing in, relishing in every fond memory that frame held. He glanced over at the other’s frames to see that he and Eddie were the only ones who’d gotten three photos. Everyone else received one larger photo of the reunion in a frame. Richie turned to look back at Patty and found her already smiling back as she wiped a single tear from the corner of her eye. He beamed at her, giving her a silent but overly-pleased thank you. 

After another five minutes of thank you’s and Mike jokingly pressuring everyone to go visit his house in Florida, the first trio departed and left only five Losers in their wake. 

Bill was next to leave, and he did so on his own. 

The night Richie learned about Audra’s call, he approached Beverly and Ben in their room and divulged in as much detail as he could without revealing too much. As much as he wanted to respect Bill’s wishes to keep the news about him and Audra on the down-low, Richie saw another problem that he needed to address. 

Richie’s apartment wasn’t wheelchair-accessible. 

His unit was on the fourth floor of a building that had no ramps to get inside. So if Eddie was to stay with him, they’d need to find an alternate place to live while Eddie recovered. Bill’s house could’ve worked, but after hearing about Audra, Richie didn’t want to go back. He didn’t think his presence was a major factor in their fights, but he knew going back now would just cause more harm than good. Bill and Audra needed their own space to work things out. 

Richie’s next go-to was Beverly and Ben. 

Richie knew that being a successful architect, Ben owned a handful of different homes he designed across the country. He didn’t know how many were accessible for Eddie, if any of them, but Richie figured it was their best shot. 

When Richie first explained the situation, however, Beverly and Ben shared a single, unreadable expression before they turned back and offered for Richie and Eddie to come stay with them at their home in Chicago. And not to mention that location was perfect considering Richie’s apartment was only an hour or two away in case he’d need anything. Ben had said his place was all one floor and wheelchair accessible, which was also ideal for Eddie’s case. Richie tried to decline at first, arguing that they would just intrude and that Beverly and Ben deserved their own space...but Beverly was very against the idea of them living anywhere else. 

It wasn’t until Beverly brought up the point that living together would mean someone would always be home with Eddie did Richie finally accept the offer. He hadn’t thought about that aspect until Beverly mentioned it. While Richie knew Eddie was fully capable of taking care of himself, he also knew that Eddie would be in a lot of pain and his injuries would still need to be monitored constantly. If something _did_ happen to Eddie, someone would be there to help him. 

Richie told Bill about the change of plans the following morning, leaving out what he told Beverly and Ben about Audra. All he said was that Beverly and Ben’s house was completely wheelchair-accessible and that there would always be someone there with Eddie if he ever needed help. Though disappointed he would no longer have Richie’s company, Bill gave Richie a thankful smile in return. 

Bill’s eyes held the same hopeful gleam as he parted ways with Richie, telling him that he’d stay in touch as much as he could. Richie nodded at the remark, pulling Bill close and whispering in his ear, “You took care of me when I needed it, Billiam. Don’t be afraid to ask for help if you need it from me, or anyone else.” 

“Thanks, Rich,” Bill smiled, “I will, I s-swear.” He gave his friend one last pat on the shoulder before heading out the door and down the hallway. 

When Richie turned back to face the others, he was met with three loving smiles that nearly moved him to tears. 

This may have been goodbye, but it certainly wasn’t the end.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Recover - Natasha Bedingfield 
> 
> Been torn apart  
> Got so many scratches and scars  
> Maybe they won't all go away  
> But they'll fade  
> Maybe time can mend us together... again  
> It's not what we've done, but how far we've come
> 
> We will recover  
> The worst is over now  
> All those fires we've been walking through  
> And still we survive, somehow  
> We will recover  
> The worst is behind  
> And it hurts, but in time, I know that we will recover (Yeah, yeah)
> 
> Got so much to lose  
> Seems I've lost my power to choose, oh  
> What to love and when to let go  
> That all changed  
> Get bitten once and then you're afraid  
> What a waste  
> Look what we've done  
> How far we've come
> 
> We will recover  
> The worst is over now  
> All those fires we've been walking through  
> And still we survive, somehow  
> We will recover  
> The worst is behind  
> And it hurts, but in time, I know that we will recover  
> Everybody's gotta, a reason to cry  
> And everybody fights, but not everyone survives  
> And everybody's searching, not everybody finds  
> And I'm still in recovery, and I'll make it alive?
> 
> We will recover  
> The worst is over now  
> All those fires we've been walking through  
> And still we survive, somehow
> 
> We will recover  
> The worst is behind, and it hurts, but in time  
> I know that we will recover  
> The worst is over, now  
> And all those fires we've been walking through  
> And still we survive, somehow  
> We will recover  
> The worst is behind  
> And it hurts, but in time, I know that we will recover


	40. Hoppípolla

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hoppípolla - Sigur Rós
> 
> Brosandi  
> Hendumst í hringi  
> Höldumst í hendur  
> Allur heimurinn óskýr  
> Nema þú stendur
> 
> Rennblautur  
> Allur rennvotur  
> Engin gúmmístígvél  
> Hlaupandi í okkur ?  
> Vill springa út úr skel
> 
> Vindur í  
> Og útilykt af hárinu þínu  
> Ég lamdi eins fast og ég get  
> Með nefinu mínu
> 
> Hoppa í poll  
> Í engum stígvélum  
> Allur rennvotur(rennblautur)  
> Í engum stígvélum
> 
> Og ég fæ blóðnasir  
> En ég stend alltaf upp
> 
> [Hopelandic]
> 
> Og ég fæ blóðnasir  
> En ég stend alltaf upp
> 
> [Hopelandic]
> 
> English Translation (https://lyricstranslate.com/en/hopppolla-hoppipolla.html): 
> 
> Smiling  
> Spinning round and round  
> Holding hands  
> The whole world a blur  
> But you are standing
> 
> Soaked  
> Completely drenched  
> No rubber boots  
> Running inside us  
> Want to erupt from a shell
> 
> The Wind  
> An outdoor smell of your hair  
> I breathe as hard as I can  
> with my nose
> 
> Jump into puddles  
> With no boots on  
> Completely drenched(Soaked)  
> With no boots on
> 
> And I get a nosebleed  
> But I always stand up  
> (Hopelandish)
> 
> And I get a nosebleed  
> But I always stand up  
> (Hopelandish)

There would be no life without the sun. 

Without its protective cradle of warm light, this world would be nothing but a frigid, empty field of stone. A lone planet adrift in the boundless cusp of eternity. Banished with a fate of inescapable exile without any hope of return. Eddie understood that now, as he slowly climbed out of the bitter-cold chasm of his demise. He scaled its walls without guidance, without direction, but growing ever-closer to tethers that pulled him out of his illusional dreams. 

He clung to those bounds with every bit of strength he had, desperate to hang on to those he cared for most. 

To the Losers. 

To Richie. 

Eddie eyed Richie from his hospital bed as the man spoke with Beverly and Ben, completely oblivious to the words leaving his mouth. In his time confined to this small room, Eddie tethered himself to Richie with such tight bonds that he couldn’t fathom the thought of separation. 

_I’m in love with you, Eddie Spaghetti._

A love-struck elation burst forth within Eddie’s chest, giving the man a weightless sensation as another one of his tethers resealed its broken bonds. 

The sun seemed to grow closer with every day that passed, and Eddie could feel his sense of life filling his weakened body through the window above his bed. And to think, Eddie spent almost his entire life with Richie just a few mere feet away, though he could never truly _see_ the significance of that until now. It felt like just another figment, a dream that would drift away at any given moment. 

_I loved you more than anything else, and I still do._

What Eddie wouldn’t give to live in that single, life-changing moment forever. 

_This is what It used against me all that time, ever since we were kids...and I felt like if I never told you, I’d be letting It win. I needed you to know how much I care about you, and how nothing will ever change that._

Eddie shivered, a rush of adrenaline coursing through him as a sweet reminder of what was to come. And there was no greater joy than knowing he could live the life Richie dreamt for them all. 

A life full of happiness, contentment, and rest. 

Not even the pain from a claw piercing through Eddie’s abdomen could deter the freedom Eddie felt, or to the affection that struck his chest when he could see that infatuated look in Richie’s eyes. A look that saw past the obstacles that lay ahead of them, a gaze filled with relief in knowing this wasn’t the end. They put up the fight of their lives together, and by doing so, they achieved a new fate in which they would never be forgotten again. 

Nothing thrilled Eddie more than seeing Richie’s eyes so flooded with unyielding devotion. 

Nothing. 

Eddie was gay. He was in love with Richie Tozier. And it was something he’d never been so happy about in his entire life. It was something he finally felt he could be proud of. He thought he’d felt bliss before, but this was not that.

_Be who you want to be. Be proud._

This fight took everything that’d been building up inside Eddie for so long and thrust it into the light. That darkness, unable to bear a purity of such intensity, had collapsed upon itself as it wailed at its own self-destruction. It became nothing but dust as the dawn of his new tenacity made its presence known, sweeping his mind with a liberating lucidity he’d so desperately longed for all his life. 

It was marvelous. 

After another few days in the hospital, Eddie was ready to go home. 

Those who previously departed all made it back alright, leaving only Eddie, Richie, Beverly, and Ben in Maine. Their days together were long but rewarding as they watched Eddie slowly improve not physically, but mentally. It was a time of cleansing that the group so desperately needed before their approaching departure. Richie had stayed off social media ever since Beverly’s post earlier that week, but Beverly constantly reassured him that the internet seemed to finally get the message. She said that they were leaving him alone now. Eddie could see the skepticism on Richie’s face, but there was a trust there, too. If Beverly was lying, Richie said his manager mostly certainly would’ve called by now. 

Beverly spent a majority of her time working on her laptop as she strung out the final details of her management plans for her business. She let Eddie help more often than not, knowing how bored he’d probably grown after sitting in the same bed for so long. Eddie was grateful for the distraction despite his very limited knowledge of the topic at hand. 

It was much more difficult for Ben to work from the hospital, so he focused more on making all the arrangements they’d need to have Eddie at their house. While the home was already one floor and wheelchair-accessible, Ben wanted to provide as much aid as he could with Eddie’s recovery. He called in to have extra railings delivered so he could put them up along the ramp and long hallways. Richie fought the idea, not wanting Ben to change his house just for Eddie, but Ben was persistent. 

_How are you holding up, honey?_

The dedication of Beverly and Ben to not only provide a place to live but to provide as much support as they could warmed Eddie’s heart to no ends. 

_Just fine, sunshine._

Beverly was like the sister Eddie never had, and so much more. Her endless love and generosity never failed to amaze him. When not working on her business, she passed the time with Ben and Richie as they planned out where Eddie would sleep, what he should eat, and who would stay home with him during certain hours of the day. Ever since the talk they’d had, Eddie could see a new glimmer in Beverly’s eye that always brought a warm rush of relief to Eddie’s heart. 

An expression of hope. 

_No matter what happens next, my dear, I won’t stop until you have the life you deserve._

_Neither will I, Bev. But it looks like you’re well on your way._

_All because of you. I don’t think any of us would’ve made it out of there if it wasn’t for your plan._

_It wasn’t just me, it was all of us. We won together._

_Yeah, we sure did, didn’t we? I still can’t believe it’s finally over._

_But it is. We’re free now, Bev...not just from the clown, but from all of them._

_We survived._

_We survived._

The extensive list of Eddie’s wounds, namely his diaphragm, lung, liver, and cheek, had all completely healed, much to Joey’s excitement. It was just his lower spine and legs that still needed constant examinations and treatment. Eddie’s physical therapy sessions had improved when the intensity of the pain that raked Eddie’s muscles dropped a small fraction compared to previous days. That sweet release granted Eddie a more lucid mind during the sessions, which allowed him to focus more on the sensations of Joey’s hands on his legs. 

Eddie wasn’t sure if he truly felt anything different, but he was almost certain he’d gained a bit more sensation in his right leg. 

Joey continued with the same leg exercises she’d been doing with Eddie throughout the week, but she started a new set of movements the day after half the group departed. Knowing Eddie would soon be leaving himself, she had him start practicing lifting himself off the bed and down onto a wheelchair. Eddie thought it’d be easy, but holy shit was he wrong. It hurt nearly as much as the therapy did. 

_Come on, Eds, you’ve almost got it. Just a bit closer._

Eddie cried the first day he made the attempt, less because of the pain and more out of frustration. It should’ve been so simple, but he swore the act exerted more energy from him than even the toughest of track meets during high school. 

_Fucking FUCK! God it hurts, Rich, I can’t do this. Please, just..._

_Eddie, you were so close that time, I think if you-_

_No, Rich...just go, please...I need a minute._

It stung to recall that memory, for its breadth was seeded with a weakness Eddie so greatly tried to overcome. A trickling fear that he wasn’t strong enough to make it through this. The dark thought had come and passed, just like they always had, but Eddie could still feel it linger in the shadows of his mind. Only the anguished concern in Richie’s eyes pulled Eddie back to the light. 

_You’re stronger than the clown and what It did to you, Eddie. Don’t let It win, not now._

So Eddie tried again and, despite the pain that tore through his body with every move, he succeeded. 

Once Eddie grew more comfortable with the maneuver, Richie opted to take Eddie for short walks around his floor. While it was an overwhelming relief to temporarily escape the tiny confinements of his hospital bedroom for the first time, the pure exhaustion that overtook Eddie’s body after getting out of bed often limited the pair to one or two laps at a time. By the time they’d return to Eddie’s room, the man was nearly half-asleep and Richie would have to practically lift him back onto the bed. 

The nurses arrived late on the morning of Eddie’s discharge. They normally came to change Eddie’s bandages in the early morning before visiting hours, but they wanted to wait until the last minute before changing them for the final time to keep the area as clean as possible. 

Richie and the others had never seen his bandages changed before, and that meant they were about to see his scars for the first time. 

“We can step out, Eddie, if you-” Ben started, already standing from his chair and making his way towards the door. 

“No, it’s okay,” Eddie said tiredly, having just gotten back from a few laps around the hall with Richie in his wheelchair. He was far too exhausted to care. “You can stay.” 

The trio remained where they stood around Eddie’s bed, taking a few steps back to allow the nurses to approach. The nurses greeted Eddie with the same warm smiles before having him remove the top half of his hospital gown. While the nurses made sure his bottom half remained covered, Eddie propped himself up onto his elbows before glancing down at the thick, white gauze that covered his abdomen. He knew the routine very well by now and remembered exactly where the nurses preferred him as they worked. 

Unable to bring himself to look up at the other Losers, Eddie kept his eyes locked on the loosening bandage below. With every layer the nurses removed, the large, jagged streak of discolored skin could be seen more clearly through the wrappings. The morning Eddie first woke up, Joey told him that his skin healed very nicely for how severe his original wounds were. And if _this_ was what she called nicely-healing skin, Eddie was thankful he didn’t have to see it for the first three months of the healing process. 

Joey told him how they’d just removed the most recent set of stitches the week before Eddie woke up, so the marks from where they penetrated his skin were still fresh. After hearing how many rounds of staples and stitches they went through, Eddie was suddenly very grateful he wasn’t awake for that part, either. It sounded like pure torture. 

“We’re going to send home some medications you have to apply to the area twice a day,” One of the nurses said as she removed the last bit of Eddie’s old bandage, “It’ll keep the scar clean and help the skin heal.” 

Eddie nodded, eyes locked on the scar that marred over half of his ventral side. It was certainly a shock the first time he’d seen it, but he quickly adjusted after Joey gave him a mirror and some extra time the day he first woke up. She said that the longer he peered at it, the faster his brain would accept what happened to his body. Even so, the act never completely diminished the sickening twist of Eddie’s stomach that occurred every time he laid eyes on the unerasable mark. 

A permanent reminder of the horrors of his past. 

It was on that first day did Eddie learn that no matter how quickly he healed or how well he improved, the ghosts of his memories would always linger in his mind. That there was no true escape from the wounds the clown inflicted on Eddie, both physical and mental. After seeing the other Losers again, however, Eddie came to accept that fact. As much as he wished to forget the trauma, the violence, the death, the despair, how could he? 

When Eddie left Derry and lost the memories of his hometown and friends, he forgot the terrors of the clown but also the love for his friends with it. If carrying this scar on his chest meant that Eddie would never truly escape the wrath of It, then so be it. Eddie knew that with Richie and the other Losers there to support him, they would always win in the end. 

There was no doubt in his mind about that. 

Eddie nearly forgot about the others standing around him until he heard a shuddering breath come from his side. His head shot towards the noise and was met with Richie staring back at him with horrified eyes, all color draining from his face. Beverly and Ben weren’t far off, either. “It’s okay,” Eddie breathed quietly. 

Upon hearing Eddie’s voice, Richie’s eyes flicked up to meet his. There was so much pooling within them they were nearly impossible to read. Agony, grief, fear, guilt, panic. All the same things Eddie remembered feeling as he gazed upon his marred skin for the first time. Eddie offered a saddened smile to ease the trio’s concerns, but it didn’t seem to help much. By the time the nurses were finished, Eddie was nearly tackled by all three of them as they pulled the man into a tense but relieved embrace. 

Joey arrived for her final visit just after lunch. 

She lightly tapped her knuckles on the door, peeking through the glass panel with a smile before stepping into the room. “Hey,” She breathed quietly, her voice loud against the quiet atmosphere of the room. “Are we ready?” 

Eddie smiled nervously, his heart jumping as Joey approached his bed for the last time. “Yeah,” He nodded, “I think so.” 

Glancing down at the large folder in her hands, Joey flipped through a pile of papers to confirm everything they’d need was present. She handed the pile to Ben, who stood the closest, noting that everything they needed for Eddie’s transfer should be in there. Once finding out Eddie was going to stay with Beverly and Ben, Joey made some calls and set him up with a new highly-regarded doctor and physical therapist to continue his treatments. 

Stepping forward beside Eddie’s bed, Joey’s eyes quickly swept the remaining monitors to ensure all of his levels were normal. “Looks good to me,” She smiled with a pleased expression as she reached up to remove the markers on Eddie’s skin. One by one, she turned the machines off and set the wires aside. Eddie never realized how much noise they’d been making until a deafening silence filled the room. Joey lifted a large bag from the side table onto Eddie’s bed, planting a hand on the side of it. “This should have more than enough medications and bandages to get you by until your first visit with your new doctor. Make sure to follow the instructions I left for you, okay?”

Joey’s eyes darted between both Richie and Eddie while she asked her final question, and both of them nodded without hesitation. Between the two of them, Beverly, and Ben, at least one of them would remember when he’d need to take or re-apply more medication. “Thank you,” Richie uttered sincerely, eyes glistening, “Thank you so much for everything you’ve done.” 

A kind smile appeared on Joey’s face at the remark. 

“You saved him,” Richie continued as he walked around the bed and swept Joey up into his arms, “And by extension, you saved me too.” 

Eddie beamed at the sight. “I wish there was more we could do to thank you,” He said, watching as Joey slipped from Richie’s arms and turned to face Eddie with a glowing ray of hope in her eyes. Eddie remembered when Richie told him the words she once uttered to him before he woke. 

_By all medical standards, Eddie should be dead._

There were no words to convey to immense gratitude Eddie would always have for the sacrifices Joey and his friends made to get him to this point. 

“Having the privilege to treat such a kind and strong patient was more than enough,” Joey replied softly, reaching forward to place her hand on top of Eddie’s. Her hand was so warm, almost as much as her smile. “I was never lying when you said you had kind friends. They’d move mountains for you.” 

Grinning, Eddie peered over Joey’s shoulder and met the other’s eyes. He was greeted with expressions of pure admiration that sent a warm rush of adrenaline through Eddie’s chest. A sight so striking that Eddie knew he’d never grow tired of it. 

_Every second with you is a gift, Eddie, my love._

When Eddie’s gaze found Joey’s once again, she stared back at him with a look of accomplished pride. In one fluid movement, she sank down onto the edge of the bed and gave Eddie a quick, gentle hug. A whisper met Eddie’s ear as she leaned in close. “What you and Richie have, it’s something so special.” 

_Just to have you with me after everything that’s happened to us is the greatest priveledge I’ve ever had in my stupid life._

“I know,” Eddie breathed, feeling lighter than he ever had before. Stanley’s voice suddenly sounded in his head as he recalled the words he’d written about finding someone special, and never, ever letting them go. “Thank you for giving me a chance to see it.” 

_I know you’ll be okay in the end because you’re so damn strong, Eddie Kaspbrak, and I love you so much._

A single tear cascaded down Joey’s cheek when she pulled back, but she was quick to wipe it away. Standing, she grabbed her things and made her way towards the door. She paused in the threshold, however, and turned to face the group one last time. “Keep in touch,” Joey grinned wholesomely, “Let me know how things are going, okay?” 

“Of course, Joey,” Eddie smiled back, spotting one final flash of red hair before the woman disappeared around the corner. 

And then he was free. 

Beverly and Ben were out the door not long after. Their goal was to head over to the parking lot now so they’d have the car ready in front by the time Eddie was outside. In the meantime, Richie pulled out the small drawstring bag he’d brought and laid out a freshly-cleaned outfit for Eddie. It was a challenge getting him dressed, especially when Eddie continued to insist on doing it all himself. Richie ended up having to help with the pants and socks, though.

Within five minutes, Richie had Eddie comfortably in his wheelchair and was pushing him down the long hallway towards the elevators. The building beyond his own floor was unknown to Eddie, for he was near dead when they first brought him in from the helicopter landing pad. Eddie was silent as Richie pushed him through more hallways, around a few corners, and through the main lobby. It all looked the same to him. Time slowed, however, when Eddie’s sweeping gaze landed on the sliding glass doors beyond. The exits were flanked by rows of tall-standing windows that reached the ceiling, the room flooded with natural light from the outside. 

It was raining. 

Heart furiously pumping as they reached the threshold of the exit, Eddie peered into the outside world before him and felt its breath against his face for the first time in months. 

It was rejuvenating. 

A sudden, choking fear clutched Eddie by the throat as Richie wheeled him out onto the covered portion of pavement that led to the drop-off area. He remembered his dream, and the moment he’d finally accepted his fated death and discovered the love he so dearly held for Richie in his heart. 

_I’ll follow you forever if this world lets me._

He remembered getting into his car, letting Bill and Richie lead him away to a world he could watch but never truly be a part of. But that didn’t matter, so long as Richie could learn to live the happy life he so greatly deserved. 

_I’ll never leave your side again._

He remembered the moment they crossed Derry’s outer border and being thrown from the car by an invisible force onto the pavement. 

Torn apart from his love for the remainder of time. 

That same dread overflowed from Eddie’s heart, his instincts telling him to _run_. They so desperately screamed at him to escape, to get away from the path before he rebounded, to flee the cage before he found himself enclosed within its jaws. 

_This still doesn’t feel real._

But this world, it could not be a dream. 

_It’s real, Richie._

The air was cold, but it was not the same chill he felt while trapped in his dream. He shivered when the crisp wind stung as it struck his face, smiled when the mist of rain so gently masked his skin with its caress, closed his eyes when he felt the embrace of warmth from where Richie walked behind him. 

_It’s so real._

This was no dream. 

Eddie beamed with an exhilarating rush as they approached the very edge of the covered pavement. The rich sound of rain striking its surface overwhelmed his ears with a newfound excitement. After being in a hospital room for so long, the open world was so loud and free, and Eddie’s stomach fluttered as Richie pulled him to a stop at the pavement’s edge. Looking out on the open road that’d lead them far away from this place, Eddie felt the sensation in his chest of sucking in a deep lung-full of air after holding his breath underwater. The brisk clarity of the world unfolded before Eddie’s eyes. 

And it was so beautiful. 

A beauty unlike any other, one that he’d only seen in starlit dreams of far-off lands that didn’t exist. A place he’d tried to hard to reach while unconscious, yet always unable to obtain. And yet, here Eddie sat, staring directly at it. Drops of rainwater struck the exposed skin of Eddie’s ankles and made him shiver with sudden recollection. 

_That one summer weekend with Richie was like any other. When the other Losers were busy with their families or their high school clubs, Eddie would often bike over to Richie’s house to hang out and pass the time. It was on that fated day, however, that the pair emerged from the house after lunch to find themselves face-to-face with a torrential downpour._

_Richie flung himself into the rain without hesitation, letting his head fall back as he outstretched his arms to the side and spun in a slow circle. He bellowed a laugh when he turned back towards Eddie and was met with a bewildered expression. “Come on, Eds!”_

_“No way,” Eddie spat from inside the garage, arms crossed tightly over his chest, “I’ll catch a cold, Richie!”_

_With a lunge forward and a roll of his eyes, Richie latched his hands around Eddie’s shoulders and yanked him out onto the driveway. Richie doubled over in laughter at the screech Eddie let out, but quickly came back to his senses when Eddie glared fiery daggers back at him._

_“MOTHERFUCKER!” Eddie all but screamed, bolting directly towards Richie with a vengeful gleam in his eyes. “I’m gonna KILL you!”_

_Richie darted in the opposite direction, bounding down the sidewalk as if he genuinely feared Eddie’s wrath. Eddie knew he didn’t, though, when he heard the loud laugh sounding from ahead of him. “Oh, he’s making a run for it, folks!” Richie shouted in his favorite British voice without slowing his pace, “But will our hero Edward catch the bad guy before he gets away?!”_

_Of course he would._

_He was Eddie fucking Kaspbrak._

_He and Richie both knew that the track-athlete would reach Richie’s side in seconds, but that did nothing to deter the taunts Richie threw in Eddie’s direction. Tightening his form and feeling the all-familiar fire burn in his chest, Eddie pushed himself to his limits as he closed the distance between himself and Richie. He tore through the relentless downpour like it was nothing but a light fog, oblivious to the obstacles that were greatly impeding Richie’s attempted escape._

_Approaching Richie’s side, Eddie smirked triumphantly as he reached out to grasp the boy’s wrist. What he failed to do was anticipate the rainwater coating them from head to toe. Richie’s wrist slipped right out of Eddie’s hand, the result catching Eddie so off-guard that he fumbled beneath his feet and found himself tumbling onto the pavement with a series of loud thuds. His momentum threw him straight into a huge puddle of water, which sent streams of droplets flying in every direction as Eddie tried to stop himself._

_Eddie’s face struck the sidewalk despite the hands he’d planted on the ground to slow his motion. He yelped when his nose struck the pavement before he quickly sat up to find himself in a pool of two inch-deep rainwater. Having heard the commotion behind him, Richie stopped and quickly ran back towards Eddie after spotting him on the ground._

_“Shit, Eds?” Richie called out, water splashing beneath his feet as he half-stumbled over towards his friend. “Eddie, you alright?”_

_Eddie looked up at him, a single streak of blood running down from one of his nostrils. He knew the blood was there, and he should’ve felt the pain._

_But he didn’t._

_Instead, Eddie felt a rush of adrenaline he hadn’t felt in such a long time, a sensation so intense he couldn’t help but relish the moment. In that moment, he didn’t care about his nose, or the blood, or the dirty puddle, or catching a cold in the rain. All he cared about was the excitement that poured through his body and his desperate need to achieve more of it._

_“Fuck, Eddie you’re bleeding,” Richie huffed, completely out-of-breath as he extended a hand to help Eddie off the ground. Eddie reached up to grasp it, waiting until he had a firm grip on Richie’s hand before pulling the boy hard enough to bring him down into the puddle beside him. “Oh, alright! I see how it is, fuckface!”_

_In that moment, Eddie forgot what it was like to feel afraid._

_Eddie cackled as Richie launched himself at Eddie, their hands interlocking as they tried to push each other back down into the water. It was Eddie who won, pinning Richie down into the puddle within a few short seconds. His victory didn’t last long, however, for Richie took advantage of Eddie’s dropped guard and splashed him right in the face. Cursing Richie out to no ends, Eddie fought back with a serious of energized splashes, which Richie met with an equally ruthless force._

_After that day, Eddie did end up getting a cold on top of being grounded for a week. His mother wasn’t too fond of Eddie returning home soaking wet and bleeding from his injured nose._

_But it was so incredibly worth it._

Eddie had never felt so carefree, and he relished in the feeling every time the memory crossed his thoughts. His determination to experience that sensation again was fiercer than any other desire, yet he never achieved it again once he left Derry for good. Not until he finally confessed his love for Richie over two decades later. Now, after so much had changed, that’s how Eddie always felt. 

It was such a stupendous, terrifying, sensational, thrilling rush. 

And Eddie wouldn’t trade it for the world. 

The hurdles in Eddie’s life held him back for so long, trapping him in a state in which he could never fully explore not only himself but his ties to others as well. 

Derry. 

The clown. 

His mother. 

His wife. 

As much as it pained Eddie to think about, he knew that none of those experiences mattered now. Richie was here by his side, and he loved Eddie back. 

_Eddie, you nearly died trying to save me. You didn’t have to do that...why...why would you-_

They had each other to lean on now, and Eddie knew he’d never have to face the darkness alone ever again. 

_You would’ve done the same for me, right?_

Was Eddie still afraid despite the horrors from his past that he finally overcame? 

Fuck yes. He was downright terrified. 

But this fear Eddie felt spreading outwards from his chest, it wasn’t something he shied away from. It was something he found himself wanting to reach towards, something that thrilled him and made his heart flutter wildly just at the thought.

In the sky beyond, the grey clouds that riddled the world with their tears parted ever so slightly. Sunlight broke through, shining down and striking Eddie directly with an overwhelming warmth. It kissed his skin and flooded his body with the ignition of a spark Eddie thought was lost forever. He could feel the sun’s heat consuming every fiber of his being and it was the most amazing thing he’d ever experienced. 

No, this certainly wasn’t a dream. 

He wasn’t dead, either. 

This was real. 

Despite the sun’s tendrils of light that broke through the clouds, it continued to rain. The beams of gold struck every raindrop with a sparkling glimmer as they plummeted towards the earth. It was a stunning sight that nearly moved Eddie to tears. They weren’t out of the woods yet, Eddie knew that. His recovery wasn’t going to be an easy one.

But life was never gonna be all clear skies, was it? 

And that was alright. 

In the darkness, Eddie found solace in the man who’d stuck by his side from the very start. It was as if a new clarity had been bestowed upon their eyes, allowing them to see the truth that lied before them after all that time. Richie was right when he said it was a gift, and Eddie had no intentions of ever taking a moment for granted. So, Eddie had no problem waiting for the next bought of sunlight whenever he got stuck beneath the clouds, not with Richie at his side. 

A familiar car rolled up along the pavement, quickly pulling to a stop. Two figures waved at them excitedly from the front seats, the joy on their faces clear despite the heavy rain that obstructed Eddie’s view inside the car. Richie gripped the wheelchair’s handles from behind, exhaling deeply before glancing down at Eddie with adoring eyes. Eddie met his gaze and smiled at the man he loved so dearly, the person who he faced oblivion with more than once and lived. A familiar wave of jittering anticipation poured down Eddie’s body as he reached up and placed a firm hand on top of one of Richie’s. 

“Are you ready?” Richie asked warmly, his voice riddled with a nervous but thrilled tone. But Eddie only stared back at first, those three simple words holding more weight than Richie would ever know. 

_Are you ready?_

Ready to leave the place he unknowingly called home for the last three months?

Ready to fight like hell to recover as best he could, and come to terms with whatever the outcome of his recovery held? 

Ready to depart from the state that brought him such misery, such pain, such trauma? 

Ready to look his demons in the eyes and tell them they had no power over him any longer? 

Ready to dedicate himself to ensuring he and his friends achieve the happy and rewarding lives they deserve?

Ready to embrace parts of himself that he hadn’t even known existed before his return to Derry? 

Ready to pride himself in who he was and be unafraid to express it to the world? 

Ready to start a new chapter of his life with the man he loved so fondly? 

Eddie didn’t feel ready at all. To face so many unfamiliar challenges all at once worried him beyond belief, and to face them all without knowing how those battles would end nearly paralyzed him with fear. Yet, at the same time, that thrill Eddie so longed to grasp whispered his name in the distance, beckoning him into its embrace. Now that Richie was at his side, Eddie was no longer afraid to follow it. 

“If you’re ready,” Eddie breathed as an elated chill ran down his back, “So am I.” 

Richie smiled down at Eddie with such passion that he barely caught the man’s words as they left his mouth. “Then let’s go on a goddamn _adventure_ , Eddie, my love.” 

Unyielding rains like this one would eventually have to come to an end, even if it seemed like there was no end in sight. And when it did, the marks it left on this earth would remain untampered. Water on the pavement, the windows, the grass, the trees. And while there were puddles, or streams, or sometimes even floods…

...With water came life. 

Eddie watched as Beverly quickly hopped out of the passenger seat and jogged around to the side of the car that remained uncovered. She hopped in and peered at them through the window, smiling as Richie wheeled Eddie towards the newly-vacant seat. Once Eddie was situated in the front seat with his seatbelt on, Richie placed the wheelchair in the trunk and took a seat in the car directly behind Eddie. 

Turning to gaze at all three of his friends, Eddie thought back to how different his life was just three months ago, how much better it was now, and how brilliant it would continue to be. The relief that struck his heart overwhelmed him, all of the emotion he built up outside suddenly crashing down on him all at once. 

“Ready to head home?” Ben asked from the driver’s seat, his words unleashing the barricades in Eddie’s mind. 

He was going _home_. 

Home to a real family that loved him unconditionally and meant more to him that he ever could’ve dreamed. 

A few tears spilled from Eddie’s eyes as he grinned widely back at Ben. “Yeah,” He nodded, sniffing as he reached up to wipe his tears, “Let’s go home.” 

“Funny,” Richie chuckled from the backseat. Eddie jumped when the man suddenly shot forward and wrapped himself around his seat to press a firm kiss to Eddie’s cheek. He leaned in so close to Eddie’s ear that he could feel the man’s lips brush against his skin when he mouthed, “I’m already there.” 

_You were always more of a home for me than the house I grew up in. Not your house, or the Clubhouse, or anywhere. Just you, Richie._

The waters left behind by rainfall contained the power that shaped the planet into what it was today. 

Eddie and Richie faced more trauma than anyone ever should, but those experiences were what led them to this point, and Eddie wouldn’t trade this moment for anything. Eyes fixated on the hospital’s structure, Eddie stared at the building with a sense of fulfillment as Ben pulled onto the main road. He didn’t move, only shifting his gaze once the building was completely obstructed by trees. 

Then, Eddie looked towards the rain-kissed road that stretched beyond. He kept his eyes forward, and never looked back. 

Sure, they needed the sun to survive.

...But nothing could ever grow without a little bit of rain.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow. Hi. 
> 
> I'm gonna keep this short because it's currently 03:03 and I should very much be asleep right now, but...
> 
> Thanks for coming on this crazy ride with me?? I cannot WAIT to hear all of your feedback, so please leave a comment and let me know! I can't believe this is finally finished. When I first planned this fic, it was, like I said before, supposed to be around 10k words. And then I just kept adding more and more ideas as I wrote. As many of my friends can attest, I always started a scene with the intent on having it be so many words, only to finish it after having written five to ten times that length. 
> 
> So, thanks for putting up with me and my incessant and excessive rambling! And with that, I hope you enjoyed the adventure. 
> 
> Until next time, my loves.


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